


Show Me, Tell Me

by ArvisTaljik, LeelaLaFleur



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Minor Violence, Padawan Obi-Wan, Romance, Second Chances, Soulmates, Time Travel, confident and seductive Anakin, cute and shy Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvisTaljik/pseuds/ArvisTaljik, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeelaLaFleur/pseuds/LeelaLaFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching the Force for the spirit of his former Master, Vader finds himself thrown deep into the past. Free of the Dark Side and with his youthful body back, Vader/Anakin is ready to change his own destiny for better, but when he comes across shy, yet incredibly stubborn Padawan Kenobi, everything rapidly spirals out of control and the ex-Sith is forced to face some of the old attractions and attachments....</p><p>Definitely, absolutely Obikin- adventure/romance, so you have been warned :) Also, Anakin is ca. 25 years old and Obi-Wan is 17, which some could view as underage, sooooo... ya' know....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take Me Back

**Author's Note:**

> So, I am actually looking for a beta. Im a non-native speaker and think my writing could use some...uh, help, so if you like the story and are interested in beta-ing it, let me know.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the prologue :)

Chapter 1: Take Me Back

 

_“Anakin, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi”_

_The bright, blue eyes traveled from the smiling face of the old Jedi Master downwards until they met with a pair of emerald-colored ones. Anakin’s young heart fluttered._

_The man in front of him was tall-not as tall as Master Quai-Gon, of course- but a lot taller than Anakin’s little 9-year old form, with narrow hips and broad shoulders. His spiky, reddish hair stuck out in all possible directions except of few long strands that were firmly entwined into a thin, heavily decorated braid. Anakin wondered what all the shiny beads and colorful ribbons meant._

_Mustering all the courage he could find, little Anakin extended his right hand towards the beautiful man while muttering something akin to ‘hello’._

_For a split second, a fine wrinkle appeared between Obi-Wan’s brows, forging a look of mild confusion on his face, but that expression was soon replaced by a pleasant smile._

_“Hello to you, too, Anakin.” Obi-Wan greeted in his crisp, upper class accent, reaching to shake Anakin’s hand. To the little Tatooine slave it seemed like ages, but when their fingers finally touched and entwined, he could feel the air between them crackling, burning his skin, setting everything on fire. Everything that was not Obi-Wan. The older man’s hand suddenly felt so blissfully cool like freshly condensed water from moisture farm, making Anakin wish he could simply blend with the other being, dive deep into his soul and stay there forever._

_But the moment was soon over and Obi-Wan pulled his hand away, turning back to the Jedi Master with serious expression and questioning him about the black-robed attacker. Anakin didn’t listen though. The only thing he could concentrate on was the feeling of young Jedi’s presence somewhere deep inside of himself._

Dart Vader’s eyes abruptly shot open.

It has been years since he had last dreamt.   

As Anakin Skywalker, he’d dreamed almost every night. He’d dreamed of faraway galaxies, of his selfless mother on the dessert planet Tatooine, of pod races and Starfighters. He’d dreamed of his beautiful wife, Padme, of the one unifying Force, of the Jedi Council, and, yes, he had dreamed of Obi-Wan. His dreams were vivid and numerous. However, when he pledged his allegiance to the Dark Side the dreams simply stopped. That is until today.

Despite his best efforts to deny the truth, even if only to himself, Vader knew why he had this particular vision of his former master.

It has been over 24 hours since he finally killed Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his soul, or at least what was left of it, was still restlessly trying to reach its other half, crying and begging for the familiar presence.

Neither Dart Vader, nor Anakin, was ever the one to be lulled by such romantic ideas as soulmates, but more hours passed without Kenobi’s subtle presence the more tempting such explanation seemed. After all, there was always something there…

_Anakin was already waiting at the docking platform, when the spaceship carrying Obi-Wan slowly landed. He could sense his master’s coming ever since the ship entered Coruscant’s thick atmosphere, and, truth to be told, he was anxious. It has been nearly ten months ago that Obi-Wan, much to Anakin’s dismay, got assigned a solo-mission and was deployed somewhere to the Outer Rim. At first, everything was fine as Anakin preoccupied himself with his duties to the Jedi, as well as to his now-pregnant wife, but eventually, the dread of their prolonged separation caught up to him, and he found himself contacting Obi-Wan almost every day. He felt like a little padawan, who was still completely lost without the guidance his master._

_Anakin chuckled, dismissing any negative thoughts. The wait was over and Obi-Wan has returned to him._

_“I was almost worried old age has finally caught up to you and I will be forced to go and save you…again.” Anakin teased as soon as the older Jedi descended the loading ramp._

_Obi-Wan looked awful; the standard Jedi robes, sullied and torn, hung loosely on his too-thin body, and his reddish hair was in serious need of cutting. Anakin couldn’t help but grin nonetheless._

_“I’m glad to see your ego has not deflated in my absence.” Shot back Obi-Wan, but the tone of his voice relayed nothing but amusement._

_At that point Anakin couldn’t help but to embrace the shorter man tightly, pouring all the excitement and relief through their bond. Obi-Wan dropped the oversized duffle bag that he’s been carrying and sneaks his arms around his former padawan._

_“I missed you so much, Obi-Wan” Anakin whispered, his lips ghosting over the exposed skin of other man’s neck. The older Jedi laughed at his blunt display of affections: “And I you, Anakin.”_

_They stayed like that longer than any Jedi would deem proper, wholly basking in the warmth emitted by their joined Force signatures._

_Then Obi-Wan slowly eased out of Anakin’s firm grip, just to have one of his free hands pet the younger man’s cheek._

_“Now, Anakin, how about being a dear and helping your poor, aging Master by carrying his luggage, hmm?” Obi-Wan smirked, all the exhaustion seemingly gone, before briskly walking away, and letting Anakin handle the heavy bag he drop minutes ago. Anakin only laughed at his master’s antics and dutifully swung the bag over his shoulder._

_“Yes, Master”_

Vader frowned.

He could barely remember how good it felt to have Obi-Wan by his side.

Was this how it is going to feel forever? Like a part of his soul was missing?

No, he wouldn’t allow that. His former Master was still here, somewhere deep inside the Force, probably hiding from him, mocking his lack of control.

Searching through the Force, along the severed bond to his former master, Vader’s mind called out.

‘Obi-Wan.’

His only responses were the steady sound of his own breath and the mechanical hum of the meditation chamber.

So he dove deeper into the Force, allowing it to flow through the remanences of his human body.

Where is he? Where is Obi-Wan? demanded Darth Vader on his mental journey through the Force. Upon every Jedi’s death, his or her soul ultimately became one with Force, and if Kenobi’s soul has blended into the Force, he will find it. He was sure of that.

‘Obi-Wan’ he called, reaching further into the darkness and spreading his presence along the Force as far as possible.

‘He is not here.’ came the calm response from the Force.

But Vader was far too determined- in far too great need to _feel_ Obi-Wan again- to give up. Pushing his consciousness away, he gave himself completely over to the Force.

‘Take me to him’, Vader commanded forcefully.

‘As you wish, young one.’ Hummed the Force softly and suddenly everything went black.

TBC    


	2. Meet Me Anytime or Anyplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader awakens just to find himself on planet of Dantooine, but he is not alone :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, thank you guys sooooo much for all your amazing and inspiring comments! I really do hope I do not disappoint you! Do not worry, there will be plenty of soul bonding, protective Qui-Gon and seductive Anakin. This chapter is bit boring, but it was necessary to set the story and explain what is going on in Vader's mind, I promise there will be more action soon!   
> Thank you so much again for your support and enjoy.

Chapter 2: Meet Me Anytime or Anyplace

The soft sound of ocean waves periodically hitting a near-by shore finally brought Vader back to consciousness. It felt like he was in the complete darkness for hours, unmoving and insentient. Getting a hold on his own lethargic body, he slowly tried to force his eyes open, but ended up having to close them right back up due to an excessive brightness of the environment. Since when did his meditation chamber become so bright? Maybe it was time he’d stop this meaningless exercise embedded into his brain by his former Master. Even as Anakin Skywalker, Vader’ve never had enough patience to just sit around, concentrating virtually on nothing but the Force itself, and it took years of perpetual chase after exiled Kenobi that finally taught him to take the time to reflect on every detail of his life. But that no longer mattered- Obi-Wan Kenobi, General of the Galactic Republic, the Negotiator, and his soulmate was dead. Killed by his hand.

Vader growled at unwelcomed tinge of pain that clawed deep inside his chest at the thought of Obi-Wan, and tiredly brought his mechanical hand towards his face in hopes to block some of the annoying illumination of the chamber. The skin of his forehead was slick with sweat and the thick curls stuck to it unpleasantly.

_Wait! Hair?_ thought Vader, shocked and suddenly very confused.

Last time he checked, his entire scalp was too scorched and scarred to grow any kind of hairs, especially not as thick as the ones he was currently pulling on just to assure their existence.

_Impossible._

Not letting go of the hair, he used the other hand to somewhat shield his face, and, after some squinting and blinking, finally opened his eyes. The first thing that he saw was the black shadow of his own hand against a too-bright background, but more his eyes adjusted to the high contrast the better he could see that the hand was pink and _fleshy_ instead of the usual black, artificially motorized one.

Slowly moving the fingers of his now human limb to his face, Vader felt down his nose, around his cheeks,and over the lips and chin, tracing his smooth skin in disbelief. All the scars and imperfections were gone.

His breath hitched.

_He could breathe_.

The persistent swooshing sound of the breathing apparatus, which before kept his lungs filled with air, was gone and he was allowed to freely suck in all the precious oxygen as he pleased. In, out, in, hold it, and back out.

He would have laughed then, if only the whole situation didn’t seem so strange and surreal. Was this some sort of a sick trick the Force played on him for killing countless of its children? Was it a dream induced by prolonged meditation? It felt so real.

A sudden burst of childish laughter reached his ears and Vader’s eyes abruptly shot open, trying to find the source of such unpleasant noise, and hopefully eliminate it as soon as possible. Turning his head to the left, he focused on a small group of children standing nearby, their figures distorted by the persistent blurriness in his eyes. Four boys and two girls, none older than early teens, were huddled together mere ten feet away from where he was laying, pointing their tubby fingers somewhere towards his midsection and laughing merrily. Anakin’s gaze followed the grouping of small index fingers down his own body only to find out that he was completely and utterly naked, laying on a muddy shore.

Yelping, he jumped to his unsteady feet and did his best to cover himself with his hands, dizzily looking around. It was obvious that he was no longer in his meditation chamber, nor was he anywhere near the Star Destroyer. The planet he found himself on was temperate. Costal crop fields stretched as far as he could see, perfectly aligned with curves of the ocean and its narrow muddy beach. The wind blew, but it was warm and heavy with moisture, forming a light film of condensation on his exposed back.

Scared by his sudden movements and imposing height, the children stopped laughing but stayed rooted at their spots, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Jot jen charra mon!” a booming voice called from behind the children, and soon a large, insect looking being appeared, shooing the noisy kids away. When the kids dispersed, the alien quickly scanned Vader with his six large compound eyes, flickered his antennae, then reached into a bag tied around his torso and pulled out a torn piece of fabric. The beige fabric turned out to be a type of robe- absolutely unfit for Sith Lord’s large form, but a robe nevertheless. The alien handed the fabric over, and Vader quickly tied it around his hips, covering as much as he could.

“Cua’dan?” (Better?) asked the alien in slurred Huttese, obviously a non-native speaker.

“Sonpa uba.” (Thank you.) Murmured Vader, automatically reverting into his childhood language. To be honest, he still had no idea what was going on or how he should react. Unfortunately, he did not have much time to ponder his next step, because the insectoid being simply nodded, turned around and started to hop back the same way it came.

_“W-wait!”_ called Vader after the alien, still speaking in Huttese: _“Where are we? What is this place?”_

The alien looked at him puzzled, like he was just asked if the sky was blue, but eventually answered anyway: _“We are twenty standard miles south from Manarah.”_

Brows furrowed in confusion, the Sith asked: _“Manarah? As in Manarah on Dantooine?”_

Why would the Force take him to this place? Granted, during his time as Palpatine’s right hand he has spent his fair share of time in the Outer Rim, but he could not remember a single time when he was anywhere near Dantooine. From his lessons in the Temple, Vader knew that the whole planet laid in ruins ever since the Great Civil War swept through it when he was still a baby, and was therefore of no interest to either the Empire or the Rebel Forces.

_So why here?_

The alien nodded again, looking even more confused and doubtful than before, and pointed to the cliffs far on the horizon. A tall golden tower stood on the edge of the rocky slope, looming over a small bay like a guard sentinel.

_“There!”_ the alien explained _: “That is the Licht Potra, an ocean bay that leads directly to the gates of Manarah. Just head towards the tower and you will see the merchant district and the docks soon.”_

Now determined to find reasons behind recent unexpected events, Vader thanked the insectoid again and headed north towards the shining beacon that was the tower of Licht Potra.

Manarah, to his astonishment, was completely different from its surrounding areas. Whereas the endless crop fields on the outside of the city walls were poorly kept and occupied mostly by rugged looking farmers, the city on the inside resembled a clean, fully mechanized luxury palace. Not a single being in sight was underdressed. All humans, and extraterrestrials alike, wore some sort of heavy, richly decorated garments, often accompanied by intricate robes and headdresses, and Vader suddenly understood why it was so difficult to get in. When he first arrived at the city gates, muddied, barefoot and dressed in nothing but the torn fabric around his hips, the guards had bluntly refused to let him through and he was forced to use a little bit of Jedi mind-control to persuade them otherwise. On the brighter note, it gave him the opportunity to also obtain a more appropriate set of clothing, and if he was to be honest with himself, the dark military-style guard uniform was quite suiting and comfy.   

It felt great to have his undamaged, youthful body back, Vader decided as he swept his human hand through his thick curly lock for hundredth time since his awakening. Finally, after years of separation and solitude, he could feel the Force rushing along his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. The feeling was blissful.

But there was also something else, something cordial and euphoric, something tugging at the edges of his soul, leading him further into the city center. He could not find the meaning behind this strange pull, but it felt familiar, so he allowed it to determine the direction of his steps all the way to the entrance of a cozy looking cantina.  

Briskly passing through the main entry, Vader froze mid-stride. Inside the busy room, one being stood out above all others just as much as him, tall and intimidating figure with broad shoulders and long, graying hair. A figure that was no other than Qui-Gon Jinn.

The Jedi Master, blood and flesh, stood at the bar, leaning forward and amicably chatting with one of the waiters.

Suddenly, Darth Vader realized that if Qui-Gon was here, then-

‘Obi-Wan!’ his soul rejoiced excitedly before he could stop himself. Subconsciously, he reached out along the old training bond that he was never able to sever, until he met a warm, familiar presence on the other side. His soul fluttered with satisfaction, making the bond shiver.

Sure enough, as soon as their souls touched, a head full of reddish spiky hair popped up next to Qui-Gon’s shoulder, confusedly scanning the cantina for the source of disturbance around the Force.

For a shortest moment Vader allowed himself to stare. Even from the distance, Obi-Wan Kenobi looked so very young- his unruly hair was cut short and face clean shaven. The padawan braid behind his left ear, which held only few colored beats, was a lot shorter than Vader could ever remember seeing. _How strange_ , he pondered. If Obi-Wan was still a padawan, that meant that he was somewhere in the past, but why and when? He did not know.

TBC    

 

 

 

       

 

 


	3. Kaae Bo (Little One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader finally meets Obi-Wan, but things aren't as simple as they seem :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you might have noticed this story is gonna be pretty much a mixture of the "reality" and "flashbacks". it is going to track the past and the present in parallel, and reveal the mistakes that Anakin has done in his relationship to Obi-Wan in the past and look at how he will try to fix them in the present :) just thought I'd give you a heads-up!

Chapter 3: Kaae Bo

Vader sighed restlessly.

Patience was never his forte, yet he found himself leisurely leaning against a faded wall in the crowded cantina, conscientiously waiting for the most opportune moment to approach young Obi-Wan. The redhead was just within his reach, mere meters away, quietly sitting at his Master’s side and dutifully listening to the bartender’s story. The Sith wanted nothing more than to approach him, and touch him, just to make sure that this was all real, but unfortunately there was a small problem.

The whole evening, Qui-Gon’s ever-watchful eye was trained onto his young apprentice, constantly on alert searching for any source of danger, and Vader was positive that the dark aura that always surrounded him would most likely be considered dangerous by the older Jedi Master.

So he waited, cautiously stretching his Force signature along the old training bond and tenderly tugging at the edges of Obi-Wan’s consciousness. The younger Jedi’s mental shields were relaxed, which allowed a small wave of bliss wash all over him every time their souls brushed together. During his long years under Palpatine, the Sith has almost forgotten how good it feels to have Obi-Wan so close.

It was well into the night, when Qui-Gon finally got up from his barstool, whispered something to his red-haired padawan, to which Obi-Wan slowly nodded, and quickly departed the cantina. Anakin knew this was his chance, so he pushed himself off of the wall and started making his way through the thinning crowds straight to the bar. As he reached the spot where the younger man was timidly nursing his glass of muja juice, Vader realized that he did not really know what to say. Luckily, this problem resolved itself quite quickly, when Obi-Wan suddenly hopped out of his seat and made a hasty turn to leave, inevitably running straight into Vader’s chest. The ginger boy yelped and stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the bar, but Vader’s arm shot up and caught him before that could happen.  

“Ugh...sorry.” groaned Obi-Wan as the blond firmly grabbed onto his elbow for support. With his help the younger Jedi finally regained his balance and straightened up. Looking down at the redhead, it took all Vader’s self-discipline to stifle his urge to laugh- Padawan Obi-Wan was solid four inches shorter than the stoic Jedi Master he remembered from his own time. If Vader wanted to he could now easily plop his chin on the top of Obi-Wan’s head without even having to strain his neck, and that was pretty amusing. Especially since the redhead, being the second shortest Council member and one of the shortest Masters overall, was always so insecure about his own height

It probably did not help that his own padawan had outgrown him at the age of sixteen…

_“Anakin, please, explain to me what do you hope to accomplish by your constant disobedience, because I am at my wit’s end.”_

_Anakin was being chastised. Again._

_Such occurrences have become very frequent ever since he hit his puberty and started to have his own opinions on whole variety of topics, one of them being the ever-recurring issue of ‘doing as you are told’. In Anakin’s defense, the only reason he ever disobeyed Obi-Wan’s orders was to save his Master’s butt whenever he got himself into a trouble._

_“Oh, please, Obi-Wan, like you have never made a last minute decision.” Rebuked Anakin angrily. Was this the reward for saving his Master?_

_“Of course I have, but I am a Knight. I am expected to make such decisions and YOU are expected to follow my orders!” hissed Obi-Wan in return. His right hand instantly went to his hair in a nervous gesture, running through the long reddish locks, before returning to its former place tugged across Obi-Wan’s chest._

_“And at least have the decency to address me as Master when I’m trying to reprimand you, Anakin.” Added Obi-Wan curtly, but all the fight was already gone from his tone. Tiredly, he leaned on the door frame near kitchen._

_Anakin huffed, annoyed, looking away from the ginger man. Obi-Wan never demanded to be called ‘Master’ unless they were at the official Jedi function, or he was very upset by his padawan’s behavior. Obi-Wan was disappointed by him, and it was not fair._

_“You have to listen to me and pay attention to what I am actually trying to teach you-” Obi-Wan continued his scolding, while Anakin took the time to quietly observe the broad spectrum of emotions that flashed over the other man’s face._

_Even when agitated, Obi-Wan was, in Anakin’s opinion, beautiful. His pale skin was soft, and outside of few battle scars, free of any blemishes. The deep, emerald eyes, which always seemed to shine brighter than both Tatooine’s suns, contrasted perfectly with light shades of reds and browns of his hair and beard. There was something almost ethereal, pure and addictive, about his Master, as if he was a personification of the Light itself. Patient, serene, compassionate._

_But also demanding and stiff, thought Anakin bitterly._

_Carrying on with the lecture, Obi-Wan tilted his head to get a better look at his padawan’s face, and Anakin noticed a thin black line drawn onto the door frame right above the older man’s head. It was no higher than ¼ of an inch from the top of Obi-Wan’s head, but it was HIGHER nevertheless._

_When Anakin was still a little boy, afraid of the great emptiness of the universe, Obi-Wan had managed to persuade him that once he grows up the space won’t seem as overwhelming as back then. Ever since, Obi-Wan made sure to track his padawan’s growth spur by having him stand by the said doorframe and carefully marking the boy’s height with a thin line and a date on which the measurement was taken._

_And now, at the age of sixteen and half, Anakin was finally taller than the redhead._

_Or, better yet, Obi-Wan was SHORTER._

_A sudden bark of laughter escaped the blond’s lips as he realized he had said the last word out loud._

_“Shorter? What is shorter?” asked Obi-Wan confusedly._

_“You…you are!” spewed the teenager when he finally got the outburst of giggles under control._

_“Anakin, what are you on about?”_

_“Hold on!” laughed Anakin and quickly laid his hand on his Master’s chest, pushing the older man straight against the doorframe. Grabbing a pen with his free hand, Anakin delicately drew a short line where Obi-Wan’s head reached and annotated it appropriately._

_“Look, Obi!” he excitedly dragged the other man away from the doorway, making him look back at the two parallel marks. Anakin’s was in deed a tiny bit higher._

_“That…uh…must be a mistake.” muttered the ginger nervously._

_“A mistake?” laughed the blond, rolling his eyes good-naturedly: ”Riiight…”_

_Gently spinning Obi-Wan around, Anakin promptly pressed their backs together and brought the other man’s hands to his own spiky hair. The backs of their heads were pressed together and he could feel the tips of Obi-Wan’s fingers running over his scalp, gauging the difference between their heights._

_Once he finished his examination, Obi-Wan let out a crestfallen sigh to which Anakin simply laughed again._

_“Aww, don’t worry, Obi” teased Anakin, a bright smile plastered on his face: “I don’t mind having such a tiny Master. Plus, look at it from the bright side, at least I will always be here to help you get the things from the top shelf.”_

_That said, the blond threw his arms around his now-short Master’s shoulders and lovingly nuzzled his neck. Obi-Wan grumbled something sounding a lot like ‘oh, shut up’, but intertwined his fingers with Anakin’s anyway._

“Aren’t you a little short for a Jedi?” chuckled Vader, while deliberately leaving his human arm clutched around Obi-Wan’s forearm.

A faint blush colored the redhead’s cheeks.

“Excuse me?” huffed offended Obi-Wan, and defensively folded his arms across his heavily robed chest. A familiar line appeared between the deep green eyes.

“Well…” teased Vader. He made a big show of surveying the younger man critically, his blue eyes traveling along the short braid, to broad shoulders and back: “Since Jedi are supposedly the great warriors I’ve always assumed that you would be a bit…um, taller.”

“Size doesn’t matter!” declared Obi-Wan heatedly, ready to defend himself, but as soon as the words escaped his lips, he realized just how embarrassing the phrase sounded and quickly shut his mouth back up.

This time Vader laughed openly, which only served to irritate the blushing Jedi.

“Doesn’t it now?” grinned the blond slyly. Sometimes it was too easy to get Obi-Wan all worked up. And obviously, young Obi-Wan was even more self-conscious than Jedi Master Obi-Wan.

“I…uh...whatever..” hissed Obi-Wan and tried to push by the Sith, but Vader swiftly blocked his exit.

“Wait. I meant no offense. Please, stay.” Vader’s smile did not falter and Obi-Wan soon nodded.

Both men sat down at the bar, and Vader waved one of the alien waiters over.

“So, what brings the great Jedi into the Outer Rim?” asked the Sith as soon as the drinks were ordered. His companion shifted in his chair nervously: “There was an assassination attempt on one of the Republic Ambassadors few months back and my Master was sent to investigate.” explained Obi-Wan solemnly.

“Ah, the beauty of politics.” joked Vader, and took a sip of his jawa juice. Obi-Wan smiled politely in response, but otherwise kept quiet on the topic.

“Sonpa uba!” Vader held his glass up in appreciation to the passing bartender, who in turn fluttered its insectoid wings and made few buzzing sounds before walking to tend to others.

“Is that Huttese?” the ginger asked, desperately trying to sound nonchalant, but Vader could sense the poorly-suppressed curiosity roll around the Force between them.

It made him smile. One of the few things he wished for as a young boy was for Obi-Wan to be interested in him, not only as a pupil but also as a normal, regular person. Unfortunately, his Master was always too proper, too unapproachable, to talk to Anakin about anything outside of the Jedi business. Maybe this was the Force giving them another chance to get to know each other.

“Yeah, I -” the Sith was about to explain his childhood experience on Tatooine, when a familiar deep voice called Obi-Wan’s name over the roars of music and chatter. Anakin turned his head towards the intruder just to find Qui-Gon Jinn looking back at him with an expression of pure mistrust and suspicion. Small frown made its way to his lips at the blunt interruption, but he was able to suppress it as fast as it came.

The younger Jedi next to him hastily slid off of his stool: “I’m sorry. I have to go. I-I don’t even know your name..”

“It’s Anakin” smiled Vader and shook Obi-Wan’s offered hand with his gloved, mechanical one.

“Obi-Wan.” Said the younger one, gently intertwining their fingers.

TBC

      


	4. From My Point Of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan's POV

_A strong arm grabbed onto his elbow and stabilized his misbalanced body before he could gracelessly fall onto the floor. Without even looking up, Obi-Wan quickly apologized to whomever he managed to bump into and tightened his dark Jedi cloak around himself. The crowded cantina made him feel very uneasy. Ever since he and Master Jinn arrived in Manarah, the Force was stirring restlessly with a great variety of emotions and feelings, which made it almost impossible for him to concentrate on anything. It kept brushing against his soul, tugging on the edges of his consciousness, and begging him to follow its lead deeper and deeper into the city, until it’d let him to this cantina._

_“Aren’t you a little short for a Jedi?” The stranger inquired in deep, mirthful voice, clearly amused by the teen’s height. With a witty comeback already prepared, Obi-Wan finally looked up at his savior and all words died on his lips. His gaze was met with the most amazing pair of azure eyes he’s ever seen. Their carrier was a tall man, dressed in a standard black guard uniform which only emphasized the broadness of his chest and strong curve of his neck. His hair was an unruly mop of sandy curls, some of which fell just past thick eyebrows onto the strong cheekbones. Simply put, this man was the living definition of strength and masculine beauty._

_Probably an off-duty city guard, deduced Obi-Wan._

_The blond smiled, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare at the full lips as they languidly curved up, revealing a set of straight, white teeth._

_Embarrassed by his own reaction to the attractive stranger, the ginger hastily put on his most offended face._

_“Excuse me?!” He tried his best to keep his tone firm and measured like a proper, grown Jedi, but in the end it reminded him more of a child’s pouting than anything else, so he settled on pulling away from the taller man and folding his arms across his chest defensively._

_His futile attempt at sounding serious seemed to further entertain the blond, who made a big show of shrugging his shoulders and then stating innocently: “Since Jedi are supposedly the great warriors I’ve always assumed that you would be a bit…um, taller.”_

_Now Obi-Wan was really outraged. How dare this man question his integrity as a Jedi??!!_

_Angry, the young padawan blurred out the first thing that came to his mind: “Size doesn’t matter!”_

_This was one of the many things wise Master Yoda told him whenever the other padawans were teasing him, and under any other condition, such statement would probably not be so awkward, but right now Obi-Wan just wanted to kick himself for saying it out loud. Hard._

_The blond laughed merrily, throwing his head back, while Obi-Wan’s cheeks burned in shame. He decided it would be best if he leaves before he can make even bigger fool of himself, and attempted to push by the other towards the exit._

_Instantly, a gloved hand was back at his elbow, strong finger tips digging into his skin through the sleeves of his tunic to the point of a weak spike of pain resonating along the limb. Obi-Wan was about to rip his arm away from the stranger and pull out his lightsaber in defense, when a warm, soothing presence brushed along his mental shields. It was tender touch, barely a flicker, but it promised safety and comfort. Confused, the padawan stopped his movements and concentrated on the source of the strange sensation._

_The presence reappeared, this time slightly stronger, and Obi-Wan quickly realized that what he felt in the Force was coming from the man beside him._

_Whether consciously or not, the blond stranger gripping his arm was using Force to communicate with him, realized the Jedi._

_“Wait. I meant no offense. Please, stay.” whispered the blond breathlessly and the warmth running through the Force increased the slightest bit._

_Intrigued about the stranger, Obi-Wan nodded._

A-na-kin…

Obi-Wan pronounced carefully in his mind.

The blond city guard was bit of a puzzle to him. As one would expect from a security officer, who is often tasked with chasing down thieving scum, Anakin was fit with straight posture and lithe figure. But the sharp definition of the muscles on his arms, shoulders, and chest would suggest a seasoned swordsman, who relies more on brute strength of his attacks as opposed to agility. Obi-Wan wasn’t aware of any sword-wielder unit in the service of Manarahian government…

Then there was the fact that Anakin was, at least to some degree, Force-sensitive. The blissful sense of security and completeness elicited by the gentle touch between their souls that transpired at the cantina almost made Obi-Wan believe that the other man was well aware of the intimate ministrations. On the other hand, the instance itself was too fleeting for him to determine any sort of connection Anakin might have to the Force and since the tall blond had not given him any other indication that the interaction was intentional or that he knows anything about Force-wielding at all, Obi-Wan decided that it was probably nothing to be concerned about.

But it felt so good, thought the padawan and the unpleasant heat returned to his cheeks.

“Obi-Wan, are you listening?” the sharp voice of Master Jinn abruptly drew him from his thoughts back into the reality.

“I- yes, of course, Master.” Mumbled the ginger hastily, but his Master did not seem convinced.

“Padawan, I understand that a mission on your home planet…with all the circumstances… might be difficult for you.” Sighed Qui-Gon, his eyes gleaming with tender worry: “But you cannot let that distract you.”

The truth was that his recent absent-mindness was partially caused by being on the planet of his birth, but ever since his meeting with Anakin last night, the home world was no longer the reason behind his frequent daydreams. Rather he spent the whole morning fantasizing about a sun-kissed skin, strong huttese accent, and a familiar man which just happen to possess both of those things.

Obi-Wan lowered his head in shame, suddenly very glad that his master couldn’t see his thoughts: “I’m sorry, master. It won’t happen again.”   

“I know” smiled Qui-Gon amicably and put his hand on the padawan’s shoulder: “I have to meet with governor Shraa-En and the mayor now. Your task is to keep the premises secure during the negotiations, understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Nodded Obi-Wan dutifully, still remembering his orders from yesterday’s meeting. Qui-Gon shot him a bright smile before entering the Meeting Chamber.

As promised, the ginger boy wasted no time and immediately headed towards the lower levels of the building, where the security captain and his men were preparing for the big event. Maybe for once everything will go as planned, thought Obi-Wan as he descended an empty stairwell.

Maybe he will even be able to keep his mind off of certain blond city guard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yay or nay on Obi-Wan's POV? I was thinking about making more of them :)


	5. Side By Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The negotiations don't go as planned and there is an attack on the city hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this one doesn't have a flashback- how strange!  
> So this chapter is more of a set-up for the backstory (ie. why are Obi and Qui-Gon on Dantooine in the first place, i promise there is a reason and it will all become clear in next few chapters). it is the 'adventure' part of this romance/adventure story :) but dont worry there will be plenty of ObiKin thingie in the next chapter! Also, I am considering changing the story rating to M in the near future... I will do my best to try to post the next chapter ("Back To Back") on Sunday!  
> Enjoy!

Vader could sense the danger in the Force long before the first battle-droid reached Obi-Wan. Many foreign droids, followed by a small battalion of heavily armed men, burst through the front door of Manarah’s City Hall, and quickly dispersed around the complex, easily overpowering the few guards that patrolled lower levels. Thanks to his superior agility- and perhaps the Force- Vader was able to evade most the fighting soldiers and sneak into the upper loft of the building, from where he had the best view of the whole antechamber without being spotted himself.

Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the room with his ignited lightsaber raised high above his head in a defensive pose. A minor explosion shook the ground as a group of six heavy-duty battle droids blown up the antechamber’s door and laboriously strolled through the newly enlarged opening in the concrete wall. Upon detecting the young padawan, the robots immediately raised their build-in blasters and started firing one shot after another. As expected, Obi-Wan, even though less skilled than the stoic Master Vader remembered from the future, deflected every blaster bolt with a grace of a well-trained warrior. Two of the droids nearest to the Jedi switched to a close combat program and hurled their mechanical steel limbs towards Obi-Wan’s torso. The ginger dodged the first one by hopping to the side and vigorously swung his saber across the other droid, cutting it in half. The remaining droids resumed their shooting, dispersing evenly around the room to get a better shot at the young warrior. Obi-Wan swung his saber about himself wildly, guiding the blue searing blade so that it was precisely where it needed to be at all times. Unfortunately, one of the charged bolts slipped by Jedi’s seemingly impenetrable defenses and lodge itself in his shoulder. Obi-Wan hissed in pain, temporarily losing his balance just as the other close-combat droid flung its limb at his lightsaber arm, knocking the weapon out of the Jedi’s hand. To make the situation even worse, Obi-Wan’s feet chose that exact moment to stop listening to their owner, tangled together, and soon the ginger sprawled on the floor. Weaponless.

A sharp spike of anxiety mixed with pain in the Force was enough justification for Vader to abandon his hiding spot and literary ‘jump into action’. Pulling out a blaster, which he had picked up off of one of the fallen guards on his way there, Vader swung his legs over the railing and hopped off of the mezzanine, landing right on the top of the battle droid closes to Obi-Wan. With one quick shot directly into the motherboard, the robotic body spasmed and went rigid, but Vader did not stop and quickly shot down rest of the mechanical soldiers as well. Once all immediate danger has passed, Vader walked towards the dropped lightsaber hilt and picked it up.

Putting on his most teasing smirk, he tossed it to the ginger: “Lost something?”

The younger man caught the saber hilt and folded his arms across his chest defensively: “What are you doing here?”

“It looked like you needed help, so I decided to – ah, _drop_ by.” snickered Vader, offering an innocent shrug.

“I don’t need help!” Huffed Obi-Wan trying to sound annoyed, but the up-turned corners of his mouth gave away the hidden mirth.

“My apologies, _kouuanu bo_.” smirked Vader slyly, and was about to add some snarky comment, when an air-missile smashed into the outside wall near one of the windows, throwing pieces of rubble at the two man. Few enemy airfighters zoomed past.

“I think that’s our que to depart.” Remarked the blond man airily like they didn’t just get shot at.

The young Jedi grinned, feigning utter surprise: “Already? And this party was just getting interesting.”

_Dry humor and sarcastic as ever,_ thought Vader. This was the Obi-Wan Kenobi he remembered…well except those few missing inches of height.

On the outside Vader laughed.

 It was kind of strange how quickly he could return to being _just_ Anakin when Obi-Wan was near. Truth to be told, even as the Emperor’s right hand Vader had never stopped chasing after his former Master- wherever there was even a hint of the older Jedi he followed it relentlessly down to its last lead. When Obi-Wan took a step forward so did he, and now that the Force itself has brought him here, back to his soulmate, everything felt right.

“What does _ko-ah-nu bo_ means?” interrupted his thoughts Obi-Wan as they passed through the remnants of the main entrance.

“It’s pronounced kouuanu bo.” The blond warrior corrected idly, while trying his best not to laugh at Obi-Wan’s horrible pronunciation.  To correct his mistake, Obi-Wan dutifully repeated Vader’s pronunciation few more times until he got it right.

“kouuanu bo!” He said victoriously, obviously very proud of his perfect imitation of the other man’s accent: “So what does it mean?”

“Short one.”

“Hey! I’m not short!”

***

“Quick! The docking bay!” yell-whispered Vader and forcefully pushed the shorter man into the adjacent hallway leading to the air-traffic control platform. It would seem that he has underestimated size of the battalion that attacked the City Hall earlier. The whole place was now crawling with different battle-droids, semi-organized attack units, and scouting robots, which made it incredibly hard for the two Force users to slip by unnoticed.

Crouching down to avoid being seen, both men crawled towards the ledge of the platform.

“There.” Said the blond, pointing to a small Starfighter: “We can use that one. I saw them tank it before the attack. It should be ready to go.”

Obi-Wan frowned, nodding towards the floor below them: “Look…”

The entrance to the docking bay was guarded by few dozen of well-armed, human soldiers. Their uniforms and armors, as well as the weaponry on hand, varied greatly from person to person, but they all bore the same, blue hexagonal symbol painted across their chests.

Separatists, thought Vader grimly as he inspected the familiar crest. He could recognize it anywhere, because he has seen it at least thousand times. Under Dooku’s leadership, Confederacy of Independent Systems used this symbol to mark crates loaded with weapons and enemy intel, which were to be smuggled in and out of the Republic during the Clone Wars.

But why were they on Dantooine? Why now?

When Obi-Wan told him about the attack on the Republic’s ambassador, Vader more-or-less expected the negotiation attempts to go astray but he’d have never guessed that the aggressor would be the CIS. This was suspicious at best.  

“I don’t think we can sneak past them.” Admitted Vader, running his free hand through his hair in attempt to push back some of the unruly curls that have fallen over his eyes: “We will have to take them down.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a second, indubitably carefully weighing their options, but eventually gave a short nod: “Alright. Let’s do it.”

When neither of them made a move, he added: “ _After you_.” and signaled for the Sith to jump first.

“Oh,no. I couldn’t. After _you_.” Vader feigned politeness, putting emphasis on the hand gesture to signal the shorter man to go ahead. It wasn’t like he was afraid of the fight or anything, but, after the show in the antechamber, he was _very_ interested in seeing young Obi-Wan in full-on battle mode.  

The ginger glanced him, one eyebrow quirked up and eyes suddenly full of amusement at his seeming reluctance, but Vader decided to ignore it.

Obi-Wan giggled quietly.

“Aww, are you scar-”he did not get to finish the sentence because Anakin stood up abruptly.  

“Fine. Let’s do it together.” declared the Sith sternly. With one swift movement he pulled the younger man to his feet before pushing him off the ledge and immediately jumping after him.

Like always they would fight side-by-side.   

TBC             


	6. Back To Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin saves Obi-Wan's butt during the air battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have just found out that I cannot write a good aircraft-battle scene, so don't be too upset (dont worry this is the last time I am writing such thing ;) ) and enjoy the ending :) Also, yay the flashbacks are back! The next chapter will be very Obi-centric and we will learn a lot about his past!

Getting to the lone aircraft, despite all the resistance the Separatist soldiers put up, was not a problem for Obi-Wan. The youth was well trained in close combat and quick on his feet. The Force buzzed in excitement every time he took a swing with his lightsaber against the enemies’ necks, every bullet and every bolt got deflected with an impeccable precision and his feet moved in steady, familiar patterns like the battleground was nothing more than a dance floor.

Flying on the other hand was a problem. As soon as the ginger youngster seated himself in the copilot’s seat and activated the auxiliary booster engine, Vader noticed a slight tremor in his fingers as he punched a set of coordinates into the console.

“Don’t worry I’m the best pilot I know” offered Vader cheerfully in attempt to lighten the mood, but Obi-Wan only rolled his eyes and went back to stressing over the mini-gun controls.

 The small craft lifted, and, under Vader’s skilled directions, bolted out of the docking bay into to the open air outside, taking a short flip-turn and immediately returning to its original course. The Separatists’ battle ships were predatorily circling the city hall and shooting down any Manarahians in sight.

“There!” yelled the ginger over the rumbles of the jets, pointing to the far left: “400 hours. The top floor is the Meeting Chamber. We have to get the governor and his men to safety!”

Anakin spun the Starfighter around to get a better view of the building. Two larger battleships were hovering near the roof, dropping off fully armed soldiers and heavy-duty battle-droids. They had to act fast.

“Alright, kouuanu bo, better get ready. It might get little bumpy.”

The blond pilot pushed down on the throttle level to increase the fuel flow into the engines and the ship immediately thrusted forward, zooming between tall buildings of the city and heading straight for the city hall. While Vader handled the navigation, Obi-Wan gripped the laser cannon controller in his hand and waited for the enemy airship come within the targeting range. The radar display flashed green and he fired. The bright red beam hit right on the spot, blasting off one of the supporting altitude regulation systems, making the ship spin violently before being forced to land on a nearby rooftop.

Vader took another spin as he smoothly avoided all the shots that were fired at their direction, swirling the Starfighter around its axis and squeezing it between adjacent buildings. Few smaller speeders chased after them firing one missile after another, but Vader managed to shake them off by either flying too high into the atmosphere or by using one of his obscenely dangerous maneuvers which had them crashing into walls at alarming speed.

“Seems like our friends have finally decided to join in.” noted the blond, nodding his head towards a flock of Manarahian air fighters in the distance. Soon the sky above the city was filled with battling aircrafts, flying ammunitions, and the persistent roar of combat.

Distracted by the appearance of their coming allies, Vader missed an incoming projectile and it smashed into the tail of their ship, making it lose all electrical power. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan pulled on the safety parachute, which quickly unrolled and opened, slowing the ship’s speed by a good bit.       

There was not enough time, Vader realized. Despite their best efforts at slowing down their fall, the aircraft was still uncontrollably speeding toward the ground. The small screen at the front of the console flashed red, displaying ever-descending number of meters before the ship’s contact with the planet’s surface.

40, 30,..

_They can’t die! Obi-Wan can’t die!_

20, 10…

_NO!_ screamed Vader’s mind.

His body acted almost on impulse when he spread his arms in front of himself and called on the Force. The air around him crackled and burned as all the essence of life was sucked out of their surroundings.

Obi-Wan will not die! commanded the Sith, his eyes flashing sick shade of yellow as more and more power floated through him, accumulating at his fingertips. He could feel the outside world being drained of its life essence as he commanded all of it at his help.

All the energy he pulled together, by his order gathered itself around the two man, creating a thick, impenetrable Force shield in the last second. Then the plane crashed. The impact shook the whole cabin, tearing the right wing off and throwing both men onto the console. Vader could feel the seatbelts digging into his collar bone and chest, hindering his nearly breathless, but he refused to lose his concentration. Clenching his jaw shut, he commanded the Force to coil around the younger Jedi more tightly and attempted to balance himself.

The hull of the ship slid rapidly across the paved ground until it came to an abrupt stop as it smashed into one of the larger buildings. Both males were once again jostled around the cockpit, this time with such a force that the bolts holding Obi-Wan’s chair gave out, sending it and the man in it flying, and Vader had to reached and grab him before his face met the windshield.

The creaking of metal against concrete had finally stopped and the only thing one could hear were Obi-Wan’s rapid breaths. Never even loosening his grip on the ginger, Vader happily noted that Obi-Wan was unharmed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about his own leg which got struck by some of the flyby glass and was now bleeding profusely.

“Sorry about the rough landing…” joked the sith, still trying to will his heartrate to slow down. In his arms, Obi-Wan blinked once, twice and then looked at him, wide emerald eyes filled with fear and something akin to confusion. For a split second the Jedi observed him with a measured look, his mouth falling open as if he was about to say something, but then he snapped it right back up and straightened up in his seat. Vader reluctantly released his hold.

“I don’t think a ‘sorry’ will cut it this time…” Obi-Wan attempted to return the joke, but soon noticed the blood soaking through the thick material of Anakin’s trousers and his expression quickly fell back to serious.

“Let’s get out of here. I think I have had enough of flying to last me a while.”       

***

By the time they stumble onto the main street leading to the city hall, the Manarahian troops had overpowered their adversaries, and the streets are now full of panicked people, commanding soldiers, and beeping med droids, who are treating the wounded.

“Master!” exclaimed the young padawan happily at the sight of the old man among the crowds of local emissaries. Qui-Gon smiled gently and took few steps towards the approaching padawan: “I am glad to see you unharmed, young one.”

Obi-Wan just grinned and excitedly caught the Jedi Master in a bear hug, pressing his cheek onto the taller man’s chest. Qui-Gon’s arms carefully sneaked around the padawan, and for a brief moment a genuine grin appeared on his lips until his eyes settled on Vader, who was watching the reunion from a polite distance. A recognition flashed across the blue eyes, the smile instantly fell from the Jedi’s face, and was replaced by the look of utter mistrust.

As if sensing the subtle change in his master’s mood, Obi-Wan hastily pulled away and upon seeing the direction of his stare, turned back to Vader, gesturing him forward.

“Master, this is Anakin.” introduced him Obi-Wan, oblivious to the rising tension between the other two men: “He’s helped me escape the battle-droids that attacked the complex.”

Keeping one hand securely on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, Qui-Gon stepped forward, extended his hand towards Vader.

“Qui-Gon Jinn” said the Jedi, shaking his hand: “Thank you for keeping my padawan safe”

To anyone less experienced in dealing with human emotion the phrase would seem friendly and polite, but to Vader it felt like a very sharp blade gliding around his neck- threatening and unwelcome. He could sense Jinn’s warning resonating through the Force, daring him to go anywhere near the young padawan. But the sith did not back down.

“It was no problem. Obi-Wan is a very skilled warrior and could have no doubt managed the situation on his own.” smiled the blond, winking at the said boy, who blushed furiously at the compliment.

“Hmm. I see” nodded Master Jinn carefully before turning back to Obi-Wan, his voice taking on a more professional tone: “Luckily for all of us the Manarahian air troops were able to make it in time before any of the councilmen were capture or harmed, but I am afraid that the whole affair is far from over. Governor Shraa-En called an emergency meeting with all the advisors for tomorrow morning until then we can do nothing but wait.” He glanced around the busy square: “I will go see if I can find any leads on who our attackers might have been before it’s too late. Obi-Wan, please help the security captain with the injured while I’m gone. And remember to keep on your toes.”

Then, with a single nod in Vader’s direction, the older man disappeared into the crowds

 

***

It has been hours since the last Manarahian air troops have left the city hall. The injured have been transported to the nearby med-station, and the fallen have been buried, while the rest of the people involved in defending the city against the Separatists slowly drifted back to their respective homes. The twin suns have long sunken beyond the horizon and the city has fallen silent.

But Vader could not still his racing mind enough to allow even a hint of rest. Despite all the adrenalin his body doubtlessly produced throughout the day, his muscles hurt from the unexpected stain and the large gash on his right calf simply refused to stop bleeding.

There was too much to think about…and every time he attempted to lay down and ‘catch some zzz’ something, or somebody, would interrupt him.

After the attack, the local security captain decided that it would be best if some troops reminded on the site until the emergency government meeting the next morning can decide on the next step. So Vader, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and few dozens of city guards were given food rations, sleeping bags, and were ordered to set up a temporary ‘camp’ in one of the main chambers. Ever since then, Vader just couldn’t relax- the comms of buzzed every few minutes, some guards snored, and some talked way too loudly at the back of the room, the lights in the whole complex flickered on and off due to damaged power supply cables, and to top it all off it started raining.

How could anyone sleep through this, wondered Vader wistfully just as his eyes drifted over to a small cocoon of blankets that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The younger man slept peacefully on the other side of the room, curled up on the floor with one blanket pulled tightly around himself and another folded underneath his head as a pillow.

As opposed to his restless self, Obi-Wan could probably sleep straight through a nuclear blast, snickered Vader.

_As quietly as possible Anakin lifted heavy covers and slipped into the bed, gently nudging the man in it to move over._

_“Absolutely not. Get out, Anakin.” A tired voice of Obi-Wan commanded from beneath the blankets, but there was no coercion behind the order, so Anakin only pulled the said blankets closer to his body. His master’s bedroom was always kept cooler than the rest of the apartment, and he was beginning to feel his hands and shoulders shiver from the persistent cold._

_“I can’t sleep.” stated the blond flatly, glancing at the older Jedi. Through the darkness he could make out Obi-Wan’s long, ginger locks mussed and tangled, the soft skin of his shoulder peaking from underneath the covers, the strong curve of his back and hips._

_“You’re too old for this, padawan” responded Master Kenobi just as flatly, perfectly mimicking Anakin’s matter-of-fact tone, and blindly attempted to pull the blankets away from the youngster._

_But Anakin wouldn’t give up. So what that he was seventeen years old and probably shouldn’t want to sleep in his master’s bed?, he thought rebelliously, clutching the blankets tighter and tugging against Obi-Wan’s surprisingly strong grip on them._

_He needed the comfort. He needed his Master. Even if he had to fight for it._

_“There is not enough space for both of us.” The ginger added, but in the end allowed the teen to keep at least some of the blankets on what was now his side of the bed._

_“There would be if you just moved over a little bit.” countered Anakin._

_The Master sighed, muttered something unintelligible, and shifted closer to the edge of the narrow bed. Anakin smiled and rolled further into the mattress. His naked back was now firmly pressed against Obi-Wan’s and it took all his willpower to not moan as his master’s body heat enveloped him. The feeling of his back and shoulders finally ‘de-frosting’ was almost euphoric. Suddenly greedy for more warmth, Anakin quickly drew his legs closer, pressing his frozen toes against the back of Obi-Wan’s calves._

_The older Jedi yelped and tried to pull away, but Anakin already had their legs securely tangled together._

_“Force, your feet are freezing!” exclaimed Obi-Wan, for the first time since Anakin’s intrusion on his sleep opening his eyes and glancing over his shoulder at the padawan._

_“Yup…”purred Anakin, too content with the situation to bother explaining himself._

_“You really should visit the Temple healers about you poor circulation. If you keep this kind of temperature up, this delinitelly_ will _be the last time you are allowed to stay here. How about you make an appointment tomorrow?” offered Obi-Wan, but the only answer he got was a quiet snore and a content hum of the Force along their training bond._

Smiling at the fond memory, Vader didn’t need any more convincing before quietly raising to his feet and tip-toeing over to Obi-Wan. In his sleep, the boy resonated strangely overpowering tranquility, and if he didn’t know better, Vader would swear that the Force itself stilled the whole universe just to allow Obi-Wan Kenobi to nap peacefully. His muscles were completely relaxed, body curled into a small ball, arms safely tucked under his head, a blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. The only part of him sticking out was the head- short fiery-red hair sticking out at awkward angles, long dark eyelashes fluttering gently across flushed cheeks, and the soft pink lips hanging slightly ajar.

Sitting down next to the sleeping boy, Anakin lean his back against the wall and deliberately stretched his uninjured leg so that it rests at least partially pressed against the younger man’s body.

“Anakin..?” Obi-Wan inquired blearily, not quite awake.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

The blond’s response was barely above whisper, but Obi-Wan nodded his head in acknowledgement anyway. Then he adjusted his position on the makeshift bed so that Anakin has more space and freed the blanket from underneath himself, sleepily lifting it upwards in a silent offer.

“You should probably get some sleep” he murmured in his crisp upper class accent, which was now tinted with weariness and languor.

Without giving a verbal answer, Vader only shifted closer and very gently ran his hand over the ginger locks lovingly until he could feel the younger man’d drifted back to sleep, his breath slow and steady.

“I think tonight I would rather guard your sleep, Master.” whispered Vader to the sleeping boy, a soft smile settling on his lips.

TBC


	7. Moves like Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan exposes Vader's connection to the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was partially inspired by the song Moves like Jagger by M5...i'm very surprised that no one has parodied that yet... Anyway, thank you all for your sweet comments! I have already started on the next chapter, so it should be up and ready in few days! Read and Review :)

_Anakin_.

…

_Anakin._

….

_Anakin. Anakin._

His old name echoed through the Force, low chanting sound full of confusion and curiosity, seeping through the gaps in his consciousness. Vader woke up to a warm feeling of a heavy blanket snuggly wrapped around his body. Just as last night he was positioned partially upright, legs stretched alongside Obi-Wan’s makeshift bed, but as opposed to last night, the serene, lulling hum of the Force was replaced by its usual rhythmic buzz. Slowly opening his eyes and forcing his mind to awareness, Vader noted that the blanket covering him was Obi-Wan’s and, more importantly, that the boy was gone from his spot on the floor.

The first morning rays of sunshine filtered through a window nearby, mercilessly stinging the sith’s eyes like a million little needles until he finally couldn’t stand it anymore and got up. It was too early.

_Anakin_.

The name sounded through the Force again, and now that he was fully awake he immediately recognized the source of the call. Obi-Wan, consciously or not, was reaching out to him through their newly re-established bond. This was the first time the young Jedi was the one to initiate contact, and so Vader was very intrigued. Following his former Master’s Force-signature, he carefully tiptoed over sleeping soldiers, saluted the commander at the door, and exited the chamber.

Despite the size of the whole city hall complex, finding Obi-Wan was an easy task.

The younger man was in a secluded garden in one of the upper levels- standing in the middle of small clearing, dressed in simple, loose fitting robes, an ignited lightsaber in each outstretched hand. His body was absolutely motionless for a second before it dashed into the blur of complex moves and attack stunts, swirling the two sabers about in perfect circles. All the clumsiness from the previous day was gone and Jedi’s steps were executed with such precision that it could mean only one thing… 

“You are a dual-wielder.” Vader stated flatly, breaking the silence that settled over the garden once Obi-Wan finished his katas.

_How is this possible?_ , he wondered. Obi-Wan from his time has never used a second lightsaber unless it was absolutely necessary, and, to his best knowledge, his old Master did not even own an extra one.

The young Jedi turned around, obviously surprised by the other’s presence: “Anakin, what are you doing here? You should be resting.”

“Resting is overrated.” The blond waved his human hand idly, taking few steps closer to the Jedi: “Now tell me, why use single-handed techniques when clearly a better option is available?”

“A good Jedi should be well-versed in great variety of combat styles. It is fairly helpful in an emergency situation, and can be efficiently used to deceive the enemy.” Obi-Wan proudly recited a statement, which he had likely heard at least thousand times during his studies at the Temple, but when he got to the end his face fell a little bit. Small blush colored his cheeks and his eyes moved to timidly tracing the stitching pattern of his boots.

“And Master Windu thinks that I’m falling behind, so I thought it would be a good practice...” admitted the ginger, a small dissatisfied frown gracing his lips.

Behind?! The notion of Obi-Wan Kenobi falling behind at anything sounded foreign- if not outright absurd- to Vader. As far as he could remember his former master had always excelled at everything, being the perfect Jedi and all. True, his lightsaber skills could never rival Vader’s own, but they were far above those of most other Jedi masters and would definitely not be considered inadequate. Maybe the padawan just needed a bit of help…

“Alright, show me.” ordered Vader and motioned for Obi-Wan to hand over one of his lightsabers.

“I-..what? Why?” asked confused Obi-Wan, hastily pulling both lightsabers away from Anakin’s reach.

“You said it yourself, you need practice and I am offering just that.” Explained Vader, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly and stretched his open palm closer to the young padawan.

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan handed him one of the powered down hilts, which he immediately sat down into the grass so it stays out of the way. Then he turned back to the youngster: “Now start your kata.”

Still with an expression full of doubt, Obi-Wan powered up his lightsaber, took a quick calming breath, and performed his standard one-handed routine, while Vader circled him with interest.

“Not bad..” murmured the sith, his expression serious: “but your upper body is out of balance. Return to the position four.”

As instructed, Obi-Wan quickly straightened up and moved to the familiar pose.

“Now as you move onto the next set, I want you to swing your right hand downwards as opposed to upwards.” instructed Vader patiently as his hand mimicked the expected motion few times.

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed: “But the technique dictates that-”

“I know!” interrupted the sith quickly, leaving no space for an argument: “but this technique was specifically designed for a one-handed wielder. Since your primary training is in dual-wielding your body expects the counterbalance of a second weapon, which now you don’t have ,and it puts your moves out of balance. Conversely, if you swing downwards, your center of gravity will be lower and give you more space to work with…So, just trust me, ok?”

The last words to leave his mouth sounded almost pleading, so Obi-Wan simply nodded and performed the whole kata again with Anakin’s minor adjustment.

“Better” stated Vader contemplatively: “Now again and this time make the transition smoother.”

So the young Jedi repeated all the moves again and again until the blond stopped him.

“Perfect.” he declared with a hint of pride, earning an excited, shy smile from the ginger.

Obi-Wan called his discarded lightsaber to his hand and quickly passed it to Anakin: “Spare with me.”

The eagerness rolled of the younger man in waves, and if Vader was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was just as excited to measure his skills against his best friend once again.

“Alright, kouuanu bo, but don’t be sad once you lose.” smirked Vader, teasingly winking at the shorter man.

“Oh, don’t worry. I will not lose.” Grinned the Jedi, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his bare feet while taking few practice swings.

“Cocky…” noted the amused sith, slowly pulling the outer-most layer of his uniform over his head and tossing it onto the ground. He fired up the lightsaber and gave it a good test spin.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Soon the two blue laser blades clashed against each other and the Force buzzed with thrill. Every step Obi-Wan took, every move he made, every trick he tried, Vader countered with one of his own. Just like so many times before in Anakin’s life, the two warriors matched each other perfectly- their feet locked in a sacred dance only known to them, the familiar hum and screeches of lightsabers, and the undying shiver running restlessly along their open bond.

The blades collided with deafening shrill, and Vader could barely stop a rugged moan from escaping his lips when he felt Obi-Wan’s soul gently touch the edges of his own, allowing the two entities to entwine and fuse. A sudden influx of strong, rapidly changing emotions flooded Vader’s mind through their bound, making him dizzy, and the warm feeling that always came with Obi-Wan’s presence spread around his body at frightening speed. He was drowning in Obi-Wan. He could barely lift the lightsaber blade in time to deflect the Jedi’s blows, Vader realized hazily.

He has never experience something quite so overwhelming. It was almost like his opponent was purposefully _trying_ to distract him…

The understanding finally dawned on him, but before he was properly able to block Obi-Wan out and pull his act back together, the little ginger rascal already had him cornered against a large tree. With a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face, the young Jedi swiftly raised his saber over his head in preparation for the final blow that would, in a real fight, mark his victory.

Obi-Wan never planned to actually strike him, but in his foggy state of mind, Vader panicked and abruptly Force-pushed the younger man, knocking him off his feet and throwing him good six feet in the air.   

_Kriff!,_ cursed the blond silently as he watched the other man motionlessly sit on the ground where he landed, his eyes widened in fear and mouth hanging open. None of them moved, both too afraid of the other’s reaction.

“I…you…” Obi-Wan struggled for words. His chest was heaving so rapidly it almost border-lined on hyperventilating.

Vader knew that he could no longer deny his conscious use of the Force.

TBC


	8. When Doves Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader remembers his first kiss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was sick last week (bummer), so I did not really write much...but now I'm back and will do my best to get back on track :) Also, this chapter probably has tons of mistakes, but I really did not have much time/will to do any editing, so I'm sorry if it's unreadable :) Anyway, leave me a line in comments telling me whatcha ya think!

“I-I knew it!” declared Obi-Wan suddenly, a look of pure smugness crossing his features, temporarily dissipating any remnants of fear. He did not make any effort to get up, but kept on rambling, pointing his finger at Vader accusingly: “I have felt it! You’ve used the Force to hold the cockpit together when our ship crashed.”

Then the self-assured smirk disappeared and the young Jedi tightened his grip on his lightsaber. A fine, familiar wrinkle materialized between his eyebrows as he spoke again: “Who are you? Where did you learn to…to-”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, unable to finish the sentence.

“To use the Force? To fight like a Jedi?” Vader supplied, keeping his tone flat and even. There was no point in hiding the truth any longer, yet he was sure that were he to reveal _everything_ now, Kenobi would surely panic and lash out at him, or, even worse, he would sever their newly re-established bond. And that was simply unacceptable.

“My Master taught me, of course.” Explained the sith with a lazy smile, purposefully keeping his answers believable, but vague. Glancing at his lightsaber, the ginger haired boy on the ground seemed to consider his answer, before returning his gaze back to the Sith.

“Was he a warrior as well?”

At this Anakin’s lips stretched into an unconscious, fond smile. With a reputation as _The Negotiator_ and later on a Tatooine hermit, it was hard for him to think of his former Master as a warrior- after all, Kenobi had always preferred peace above all else- but seeing this young padawan restlessly bouncing on his feet, wildly spinning his sabers, long before the battle, it was hard to think of him as nothing but.

“The best I have ever known.” Declared Vader wistfully, his gaze intently pointed at the younger man. A slight tint of pink colored Obi-Wan’s cheeks at the scrutinizing look. The unresolved tension rolled off the padawan in waves, his rapid heartbeat so prominent in the Force that the Sith could almost hear pounding in his ears in synchrony with his own.

“Although,” sighed Vader lightly: “he would probably not appreciate being defined by such term.”

Putting his closed fists on his hips and straightening his shoulders, Vader put on his most sassy expression: “He would probably say something like: ‘Now, now, Anakin, wherefore would you say that? Fighting is so uncivilized’.” He did his best to imitate his former Master’s exaggerated, upper-class accent and snobbish tone, Obi-Wan always used when mentioning anything even slightly diverging from his personal standards. As a little padawan, Anakin had soon learned that his Master was far from conceited, but it was still funny to try to emulate such behavior.

Obi-Wan snorted at Vader’s comical impersonation, quickly covering his mouth.

“Sorry…” he apologized hastily, but the amused half-smile did not leave his face. Anakin only grinned in response before taking few steady steps forward and extending his glowed, bionic arm towards the ginger.

“We’d met on Tatooine when I was little. I don’t think he’d liked me very much back then.” Continued to explain the blond as he grabbed onto Obi-Wan’s arm and gently pulled the shorter man into a standing position.

“I’m sor-” Vader was just about to apologize for the deception, when his mechanical wrist spasmed and let out an unpleasant metallic screech.

“Kriffin’ sith hell!” he cursed loudly. He’d almost forgotten how annoying the occasional malfunction of his hand’s wiring was. The black high-tech synthetic suit the Emperor Sidious had gifted him after the battle on Mustafar rarely needed any repairs outside of a scheduled maintenance. Unfortunately, his old prosthetic was a completely different story.

“Your hand!” gasped the young Jedi and immediately trapped Vader’s misbehaving limb in his own. Obi-Wan’s fingers gently glided over the leather material of the glove, pressing down at the specific points where one would expect knuckles, his eyelashes fluttering madly when he found them completely missing.

“It’s…It’s-”

“In a desperate need of repairs.” supplied Vader unhappily, but Obi-Wan ignored him in favor of further examination, his hands carefully fondling with the mechanical joints through the glove.

“Can I?” the ginger asked suddenly, sliding his fingers higher up Vader’s forearm, all the way to the hem of the glove. The sith simply nodded, now keenly watching Obi-Wan’s turquoise eyes shining with curiosity as the shorter man delicately pulled the black glove off. As soon as the material was gone the Jedi’s hands returned to touching the durasteel limb.

“This is…well, wow” smiled Obi-Wan shyly, finally letting go of the other man.

“Can you fix it?”

“I think so” nodded Vader, quickly assessing the state of the wires: “I just need to sit down.”

Then his slid in to a cross-legged position down onto the grass and Obi-Wan promptly followed, sitting across from him. The blond started meticulously removing the screws (AN: yes, that’s right! They used screws!) while Obi-Wan watched.

“How did it happen?” asked the Jedi, nodding towards the arm. The tone of his voice was seemingly unaffected, but there was a notable spike of compassion in the Force.

Vader grimaced ruefully at the memory of his fight with Count Dooku: “I was young and way too eager to prove myself to my Master during a battle…I think he ended up paying for that mistake more than me- having to help me re-learn every single technique so I can use my left hand…Here, hold this.”

Vader pointed at one of the loose ends of the wire and Obi-Wan dutifully pinched it between his thumb and index finger, keeping it out of the way.

“Is Tatooine where you learned Huttese?” asked Obi-Wan, tentatively shifting closer to the other man so he could get a better view of the repairs. Vader glanced up from his hunched position, instantly noticing the physical proximity between them. Their heads were cradled over the broken prosthetic, so close together that were one of them to move even the slightest bit forward, their foreheads would surely collide. The most unruly of the ginger’s hairs occasionally brushed over Vader’s forehead and the prickling heat transmitted through their bond made the early morning breeze feel like the hottest fires of Mustafar.

The younger man did not seem to notice; his wide eyes were trained on the sith’s digits nimbly running over the wiring like it was the most amazing thing in the universe. 

“Uh-huh. Grew up speaking it. It’s pretty much the only language the Hutts are willing to deal with. Plus, republic’s smugglers always pay nice for a good translator.”

Vader smirked as Obi-Wan’s head shot up and mouth fell open at his blunt admission of participating in the illegal business of the slug-aliens. Plucking the small wire from the ginger’s still hand, he attached it back into the socket in his elbow joint.

“And done!” declared the blond and raised the hand between them for an inspection, wiggling each of his digits and twisting the wrist, then stretching it upwards. Grinning happily, Obi-Wan pressed the palm of his own hand flat against Vader’s mechanical one, perfectly aligning all the fleshy fingers with their durasteel counterparts. The sith could not feel the warm touch, but he could see the delight reflecting in the younger man’s face- the soft lips stretched into a shy grin, the bright emerald eyes so full of hope and light that Vader could almost swear it was _his_ Obi-Wan sitting in front of him, holding his hand.

 

_The whole area was covered in layers of mud and pieces of rubble, a thick fog spread as far as eyes could see. Flocks of injured soldiers slowly filtered through the demolished buildings, into the empty space in between, dragging their injured comrades and picking up discarded weaponry._

_“Obi-Wan!” called Anakin, a panic slowly finding its way into his tone. It had been hours since the battle of Ithor ended and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who has served as part of Ithorian auxiliary forces during the conflict, was nowhere to be found. Sometime during the endless hours of fighting Anakin has lost track of his Master, which wasn’t that unusual, but when Obi-Wan did not return to the camp once everything was over, Anakin became restless._

_“Soldier,” he stopped one of the passing Ithorians fighters: “Have you seen Captain Kenobi?”_

_The alien shook his head silently before departing._

_Anakin searched the Force again, but Kenobi’s presence, which usually shone brightly on the other side of their bond, was now reduced to a barely perceivable flicker. As it had been for hours._

_Last time he had seen Obi-Wan, the Jedi was securing the left wing of the Separatists’ base. Then there was an explosion- the reactors powering the base’s plasma shields overheated and blasted a whole half of the building apart._

_His Master could be laying somewhere under the debris, slowly dying in pain and agony, thought Anakin alarmed, his eyes starting to sting with unshed tears._

_All of a sudden a lone figure climbing down a particular large pile of rubble caught his attention. The dark, almost black smears of ash and dirt completely covered his face, obscuring any visually recognizable features, but Anakin knew  immediately who it was. Letting the tears fall down his cheeks, he wasted no time and darted towards the older man, hoping over the debris, stumbling over a pothole and sliding through the mud._

_When he finally reached the Jedi Master, he could not help but smash their bodies together, gripping the other man’s shoulders in a desperate hug until they could barely breathe. The ribs he broke few hours ago burned and stabbed into his flesh, but it no longer mattered. Obi-Wan was there._

_Obi-Wan was safe._

_The relief washed over him like an ocean tide, bringing more and more tears to his eyes._

_“A’kin! Need- air!” coughed out Obi-Wan and Anakin quickly released his death grip, but still kept his arms wrapped protectively around the shorter man. Smiling like a Coruscantee junkie who had one too many deathsticks, he pressed his free hand onto Obi-Wan’s forehead, wiping off a long ginger lock of hair that stuck to the sweat covered skin. Overall his Master looked terrible- the standard Jedi robes were torn beyond repair, boots sullied and soaked with slimy mud, the hair at the back of his head charred to the skin, and there was a severe limp on his left leg._

_“You’re okay” stated the blond Jedi padawan contently, cupping the Jedi Master’s cheek in his hand. Obi-Wan flashed him a blinding smile, the whiteness of his teeth only exaggerated by the dark grunge covering his face. The emerald eyes glittered amicably in response to Anakin’s touching concern._

_“Well, mostly…” joked the Master, while trying his best not to wince at the pain coming from his injured leg._

_Instantaneously, there was a frown on Anakin’s lips: “I could barely feel you through the Force, Master…I was worried, you know.” His tone edged on accusatory, but Obi-Wan ignored it, smiling and shrugging his shoulders: “I’m sorry, my padawan, I must have exhausted all my strength during the fight. You know not all of us have the stamina of the Chosen O-”_

_Obi-Wan started to explain, but Anakin did not want to hear it. He was fed up with explanations. He was fed up with constantly worrying about his Mater’s safety and, more importantly, he was sick and tired of not being able to tell Obi-Wan just how much he means to him._

_Closing his fists around the hair on the nape of his Master’s neck, he quickly brought their heads together, effectively silencing the older Jedi with his lips over his own. The kiss was short, sloppy, and far from perfect, but the scruffy feeling of Obi-Wan’s beard made Anakin’s head swim with pleasure. He had dreamed of this moment ever since his young mind acknowledged that there was such a thing as physical attraction. In fact, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the poster boy of Jedi perfection, was a frequent star of his wet dreams during the teenage years, and now that he no longer had to use his imagination to feel his Master’s lips pressed against his, he was beyond ecstatic._

_Slowly pulling away to catch his breath, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan’s stunned expression.  The shorter man stared back at him wide-eyed and breathless, his mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’. The bond between them buzzed with a flashing mixture of confusion, uncertainty, and affection. Kenobi did not make a move to pull away, which Anakin took as a permission and gently leaned in for another kiss._

_“A-Anakin, stop…” whispered Obi-Wan against his lips, softly pushing on his padawan’s broad shoulders._

_“Why?” asked Anakin before brushing their lips together again._

_The pressure on his shoulders increased: “Anakin, please, I… we can’t do this.”_

_“Why not?” challenged the blond padawan defiantly, not moving away from his Master’s lips._

_“Why not?!” repeated seemingly horrified Obi-Wan, finally succeeding in pushing Anakin off: “You are my padawan, for Force’s sake! I am 16 years your senior. I’m responsible for you!”_

_Anakin huffed annoyed, folding his arms over his chest: “I am eighteen, Obi-Wan. I don’t need you to baby me anymore! I can decide what I want on my own!” he paused, quieting down the volume of his voice: “And I want you…”_

_Hastily moving back to the Jedi Master, Anakin grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, rubbing soothing circles over Obi-Wan’s knuckles with his thumb: “I love you, Obi-Wan, and I know you love me. I want us to be together.”_

_His gentle declaration had an adverse effect on the Jedi Master, who hastily pulled his hand away._

_“Do you even hear yourself, Anakin? What about the Jedi? You have always wanted to be a Jedi. You’ve made a commitment to the Order! We both have” reminded him Obi-Wan desperately, taking a hesitant step away from the younger man._

_“So?” snapped the blond, the weight of rejection crushing hard down on his chest: “You are everything to me, Obi-Wan. I would leave the Order in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you happy. Wouldn’t you do the same?”_

_“This is insane” murmured Kenobi, nervously running his hand through his hair and purposefully avoiding Anakin’s expectant gaze. The tension between them was now palpable._

_“Y-you wouldn’t…” whispered Anakin, answering his own question. His voice broke as a new wave of tears pushed past his eyes and down his cheeks and the Force went silent: “Of course, you wouldn’t! The Order has always been more important to you than...than me!” The last words leaving his mouth blended into an angry yell._

_“That’s not true!” huffed Obi-Wan angrily, but immediately centered himself and added in calmer tone: “I’m sorry, Anakin, but this-” He motioned between them: “-this simply cannot be. I know you are hurt now, but one day- once you are older- you will understand…”_

_Then the Master departed, leaving his heartbroken padawan alone in the empty ruins._

Vader frowned at the memory. He did not like to be reminded of his first kiss, even though it was with his soulmate. Things that followed that incident were distressing and painful for the both of them. Obi-Wan, in attempt to lessen the awkwardness, had gone behind his back and tried to have Anakin assigned to another Master, while the padawan sought to drown his sorrows in liquor and a number of short, meaningless relationships. His chest still ached unpleasantly at the thought of being separated from his former Master in such manner.

A soft tug on the fingers of his metallic arm interrupted Vader from his musings and brought his attention back to the young man holding his hand. Probably sensing the blond’s distress through their bond, Obi-Wan tightened his hold on his hand, intertwining his fleshy fingers with the durasteel ones, and Vader couldn’t help but respond in kind.

“Can you teach me some?” grinned the ginger padawan excitedly, leaning closer to the sith.

“Some Huttese?” asked Vader, his previously bad mood lifted instantly.

The boy nodded so eagerly his padawan braid swung wildly around his shoulders, which made Vader laugh out loud.

“Sure, what would you like to know?”

“How about…” Obi-Wan contemplated: “Uh, how about: Hello, my name is Obi-Wan and I come in peace?”

The blond gave him an amused look but translated anyway: “Achute, mah peekase Obi-Wan an jee nan du cog.”    

The Jedi repeated the phrase to his best abilities and Vader provided him with appropriate corrections.

“Alright, alright!” laughed Obi-Wan once Vader finally approved of his imperfect pronunciation: “Maybe we should start with something easier, huh? How do you say ‘thank you’?”

“Sonpa uba”

“Sonpaa uba, Anakin.” beamed Obi-Wan. His fingers were idly playing with the mechanical joints of Vader’s hand as if testing its flexibility. Smiling back, the sith lord was just about to tell the boy that it was no problem, when he noticed Qui-Gon Jinn walking through the garden in their direction.

“I believe our lesson is being cut short, kouuanu bo.” noted Vader, nodding his head in the Jedi Master’s direction. The young ginger followed his line of sight, his cheerful smile suddenly falling from his lips: “I guess it’s time to meet the governor.”

His tone was way too somber for the sith’s liking, but he decided to ignore it and helped the shorter Jedi up.

 

 TBC


	9. A Little Bit About This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My explanation WHY Anakin ended up dating Padme even though he loved Obi-Wan :) And also a big reveal :)
> 
> Anyway, I really really hate this chapter (that's why it's so lousily written) but it is necessary for the story...I promise, a better chapter coming soon!

The chamber where the Manarahian government met was enormous- it was spacious enough that one could easily park at least five Nebula-Class Star Destroyers in it and still have some space left over. The narrow, glass windows on both side of the rectangular room reached over fifty feet high, which allowed the sun rays to provide sufficient illumination all throughout the day without having to use artificial lightning. There was no furniture or decorations, outside of a rich burgundy carpet that stretched from the entrance door all the way to the small podium at the other end. On the podium stood a massive, golden throne-like chair, but from the dusty upholstery and scratch marks it was fairly obvious that no one has used it in many years. Above the throne, on the far wall, hung a sole painting of what Vader assumed was some sort of royal family- a king, a queen, and two little children.  

Dantooinian legislators, whether personally or in form of holo-projection, stood gathered at the center of the room together with the captain of Manarahian security and a large, green-skinned alien dressed in a full armor.

“Master Jedi, governors” welcomed them Governor Shraa-En gently, spreading his heavily robed arms and gracefully bowing his head. The governor was a middle aged man with a thin figure and straight, jet black hair that flowed past his shoulders, framing his angular features and sharp blue eyes.

“Thank you all for joining me at such short notice” he said, carefully scanning each of seventeen assembled governors, who silently nodded in return: “As you might have heard, yesterday Manarah was attacked.”  

The place exploded in gasps and excited murmur.

Governor Shraa-En raised his hands to retrieve everyone’s attention, slightly increasing the volume of his voice: “Fortunately, due to Admiral’s quick response, our air fleet has managed to defeat the city and force the enemy to retreat.”

The governor then went on to recap events of the previous day, but Vader was too busy observing Obi-Wan to pay attention to the exact words. The younger Jedi stood outside of the slightly irregular circle formed by the meeting attendees, his smaller frame almost completely obscured by his Master’s and the hood of his robe pulled over his head to the point that no facial features were visible. The Sith Lord could feel him though- a bright, warm presence on the other side of their bond agitatedly swirling and twisting the Force around it in expectation of something adverse to happen any moment. Restless.

He knew that feeling all too well.

_“Don’t be afraid” Anakin whispered to the woman next him confidently despite the fact that he felt none of the conviction that so easily slipped into his tone._

_Fingers tightly clutched around shackles binding his hands, he desperately tried suppress the feeling of anguish slowly crawling up his spine._

_“I’m not afraid to die” replied Padme just as quietly as he._

_No? Anakin wanted to ask._

_He didn’t fear death either. At least not for himself._

_An image of a particular beautiful, breaded face came to his mind and his heart clenched painfully, suddenly full of regret and unsaid promises._

_What if Obi-Wan dies? What if he will never be able to see him again? There was still so much that needed to be said, to be made right, between them…_

_Or was there?_

_It has been a little over a year since the incident on Ithor. One long, excruciating year since Anakin got to taste Obi-Wan’s soft lips against his own, even if it was just for a split second. So much had happened since then, yet, in Anakin’s opinion, everything seemed to stagnate. After the awkward rejection, it took nearly a month before Obi-Wan was able to talk to his wayward pupil again, and another month before Anakin was willing to listen. Even then any discussion approaching the subject of attachment, be it about them or not, ended in shouting, Kenobi’s reproachful sighs, and fist-sized holes in Anakin’s bedroom wall._

_When even the council noticed their impaired relationship, they were taken off the front-line duty and assigned a simple task of protecting Senator Padme Amidala, an old friend of both. Padme, now grown and mature woman, was a spark of light between the dark clouds and for a brief moment in time the heavy sence of reality had been lifted from Anakin’s shoulders, making him feel like a carefree child. In some ways, the former queen was just like his mother- she was loving and understanding, but more importantly she gave him hope when there seemed to be none left._

_“I’ve been dying a little bit each day since you’ve came back into my life” she said suddenly, looking at him with a serious expression._

_“What are you talking about?” asked the blond Jedi, even though he was pretty sure he knew. He just stubbornly did not want to acknowledge the answer._

_“I love you”_

_The sincerity of her words hurt._

_“You love me?”_

_Anakin could hear his voice break as a wave of sadness washed over him._

_This was not supposed to happen._

_“I thought that we’ve decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie. And that it would destroy our lives.”_

_She was not supposed to fall in love. Padme deserved better than to love somebody who was so much in love with the man that raised him that he could barely stay still. Anakin did love her, to some degree, as well, but he wasn’t sure he could love her as much as he loved Obi-Wan._

_What if he couldn’t give her what she wanted?_

_“I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway” whispered Padme as if she could read his doubts._

_“I truly, deeply love you and…and before we die I want you to know.”_

_Maybe he could learn to love her, thought Anakin, but as soon as their lips met the only thing he has able to think about were thick, ginger hair and soft green eyes._

The sound of hushed good-byes awoke Vader from his mental retrieve. The meeting was obviously over and the statesmen started to filter out of the chamber. After the last of the governors walked out the door, only Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Governor Shraa-En, and he remained in the room.

“Master Jinn, Master Kenobi, may I speak to you freely?” the governor said gently, his eyes suggestively drifting to Anakin as if he was asking whether it is safe to speak openly in front of him. Qui-Gon frowned at the Sith, but before he had a chance to raise any complains, Obi-Wan had already pulled down his hood and nodded in approval.

The black-haired legislator smiled kindly at the younger Jedi before his face returned to Qui-Gon with a look of worry: “I am afraid that the fight is far from over. Given the current circumstances…”

The blue eyes moved to meet Obi-Wan’s for a split second, before he continued: “…I believe the situation might be much direr than we think.”

“Governor?” asked Qui-Gon, motioning for the man to explain.

“Master Jinn, our airship forces might not be the best in the galaxy, but I assure you they are well trained and equipped, and it should not have taken them as long to enter the battle as it did yesterday.”

“Are you insinuating a sabotage?” Vader was no longer able to stay quiet. The Separatists, possibly under the lead of Dooku, have attacked Dantooine at the exact time when he and Kenobi were both there, and he wanted to know why.

“Possibly” nodded the governor somberly: “The reason why our troops weren’t ready is that Captain Fal-Arn and his fast response team were called this morning to attend to a small uprising in the 3rd sector.”

Qui-Gon rubbed his beard contemplatively before speaking: “I mean no offense, governor, but two such events occurring at the same time sound more like a coincidence.”

“Two perhaps, but _three_ do not- even in this region of the galaxy.” The governor noted.

“There was another attack?” exclaimed Obi-Wan, who was absolutely silent until now, hidden in the older Jedi’s shadow. Vader could feel a sudden influx of anxiety soaring through their bond.

Shraa-En turned to the ginger, inclining his head apologetically: “I am afraid so, Master Kenobi, one of our largest durasteel smelting facilities in sector 7 was attacked by a battalion of ground troop approximately 30 standard minutes prior to the assault on the city hall. Moreover, the soldiers that attacked all three places bore the same symbol.”

The frown on Vader’s lips deepened by a fraction, as three images of an identical symbol appeared above a small holo-projector in governor’s hand.

The symbol of C.I.S. The Separatists.

A brief silence, disturbed only by the quiet buzz of the city behind tall glass windows, encompassed the large room before the senator spoke again, this time his tone was more subtle, almost pleading: “Clearly, this was no coincidence, Master Jinn. Somebody planned this to make Manarah defenceless… and almost succeeded. I can only imagine what could have happened if-”

The governor’s voice fell silent, unable to finish the horrifying thought.

“Master Jinn, I know you were opposed to this before, but please, reconsider my offer to stay at the Royal Palace. The security is superior to the one-”

“Governor Shraa-En, my decision stands. Obi-Wan and I will be staying at the local inn until the end of the investigation” stated Qui-Gon, his voice suddenly stern and a few degrees colder.

“But surely you must understand to how much danger the prince is exposed that way!” exclaimed Shraa-En arguatively and threw his heavily robed arms up in the air, clearly unhappy with the decision the Jedi Master’s made.

“Governor!”

Qui-Gon’s warning tone interrupted whatever else the dark-haired legislator was about to say, but before the Jedi was able to continue, the governor swiftly moved to kneel directly in front of Obi-Wan, gently grasping both of his hands in his own.

“Your Majesty, I beg of you, for your own safety come to the palace!”

 

TBC


	10. A Little Bit About That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan's history and some fluff :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since you guys were so excited to hear some sort of explanation on the last chapter, here it is :)  
> just a few notes on the universe: 1) Obi is not from Stewjon, but from Dantooine- I know, bummer, but I hate Stewjon (it's a stupid name :D ), 2) Dooku left the Order when Obi-Wan was about 4 (will be mentioned later) but has not yet joined the Sith, the rest of your questions and comments should be answered in this chapter :)
> 
> Also, hurray to the editor-in-chief/beta ArvisTaljik who made all this readable for you!!!!

After the Governor’s blunt revelation, the meeting was quickly dismissed by Qui-Gon, who politely explained to the worried legislator that the prince would be in far greater danger if his presence became known. Therefore, he cannot stay at the palace for the sake of preventing the draw of further attention. Shraa-En, after much disagreement, acquiesced to the Jedi’s assessment and instructed Anakin to inform the other governors and the mayor that another meeting will be takeing place at sunset. Bowing dully to the man, Vader turned back towards Obi-Wan only to find that he had already departed from the grand chamber.

But, luckily for the Sith Lord, the boy did not go far.

“A prince, huh?” questioned Vader gently once he finally found the younger Jedi.

Obi-Wan sat on the edge of one of the many staircases within City Hall, his legs pulled close to his chest and arms protectively curled around the top of his knees. His head turned briefly at the sound of the familiar voice before plopping back down onto his folded arms, a soft sigh of acknowledgement escaping his soft pink lips. Several silver coins of different sizes and shades were swirling steadily in the air just above ginger’s head, making distinct ellipsoidal shapes as they took turns flying in front of Kenobi’s face.

If Vader actually bothered to think about it, he might have realized sooner that Obi-Wan’s background was far from those of typical Jedi. Everything, including his ostentatious taste for expensive wine, upper-class magisterial accent and the strange yet natural inclination toward mastering even the trickiest political debate, suggested a patrician lineage. The blond Sith just never assumed that his old Master could be royalty; after all, to him the man was always just Obi-Wan. His stiff, ever-proper, yet princely Obi-Wan.

The thought made Vader’s lips quirk up into an affectionate grin.

Sitting down next to the silent Jedi, he nodded in the direction of the Force-levitated coins: “Wouldn’t that be considered frivolous use of the Force, Your Majesty?”

Lifting his head just enough to be able to look the taller man in the eyes, Obi-Wan sighed dejectedly: “Please, don’t call me that. I am not royalty…”

A small turbulent wave of unease mixed with mild annoyance rushed along their old bond, almost instantly shutting down Vader's access to Kenobi’s usually serene presence on the other end. But the Sith Lord was not one to give up easily and pushed harder on the closed bond, crawling ever-closer and forcing it to reopen, if just ever so slightly.

‘Why are you lying?’ he questioned through a simple mind suggestion, but once it went unanswered, he decided to push on with words: “No? Because Governor Shraa-En seems to think-”

“Well, I am not! And I am _not_ lying!” snapped Obi-Wan heatedly, the tone of his voice bordering on a growl, and for the first time ever, Vader saw his bright emerald eyes flash with anger. The Sith’s head jerked back at the power of the violent, unobstructed emotion that zipped through the bond as the words left the younger man’s mouth.

The two stared at each other intently as if unsure how to react to the sudden outburst until Obi-Wan timidly averted his gaze, a deep blush settling onto his cheeks.

It was a good minute or two before the ginger spoke again.

“My father was a prince, but he has gave the throne up before I was even born.” He explained quietly.

“I thought that Jedi were not allowed to know their biological family” noted Vader with a pang of jealousy, because he was never allowed to go see his mother. Why had Obi-Wan been so insistent on telling Anakin that having a contact with your family is against the rules, when he himself obviously got to meet them?

“We are not, but…”agreed the padawan, waving his hand towards the spinning coins and using the Force to bring them closer so that Vader could see the design: “…it’s kind of hard to not know where you came from when your name is on every single coin used in this entire star system.”

All five different coins hovered lightly in front of their faces, exposing a small carving on each. Vader snatched the smallest one and took a closer look the decoration. On the one side there was an indentation in the shape of a number that indicated the coin’s value, and on the other was an elaborate image of a small child’s head with a massive crown on the top of it. The inscription read _PRINCE KENOBI_.

With a quick glance at the youngster next to him, Vader realized that the child on the coin must be Obi-Wan.

_Funny_ , thought Vader, the imprinted icon was exactly how he imagined his Master looking as a four-year-old. But why would a royal family give up their son to the Jedi? From his own experience, he knew that children from higher classes were fairly rare amongst padawan trainees, because they were usually too valuable to their bloodlines, heritages and social positions to simply let go.

“Why did your family gave you up to the Jedi?”

The Sith levitated the tiny coin back in with the others.

“You don’t know?” snickered Obi-Wan bitterly like he couldn’t believe other man’s ignorance on the issue, but when Vader shook his head in the negative, he flashed him an amused grin: “How did you make it through guard training without hearing all twenty absolutely authentic versions of the story?”

Even though the statement was phrased as a joke, there was an unmistakable hint of loathing.

“Don’t know, but I would like to hear your version” The blond had almost forgotten about his cover story of being a new recruit in Manarah’s City Guard, but decided that now was not quite the right time to come clean.

The Jedi sighed while levitating a different coin towards Vader. This one, large and slightly more golden in color, depicted a bearded man with sharp features. On his head sat the same crown as was on the previous coin and the inscription had the same name- KENOBI.

“My grandfather, who had been in power at the time, was… he was a despotic tyrant. He cared very little about the starving farmers and sickly children outside of Manarah’s walls. The economy, together with its people, was crumbling upon itself for decades under his rule, so when my father finally took over and saw the disaster that the planet's monarchical system brought, he decided that enough was enough, established an assembly of seventeen governors and completely gave up our family’s right to the throne…” explained Obi-Wan dully, finally releasing his Force-hold on all of the coins and letting them clatter to the ground: “To assure that there will be no heir to return and claim that right ever again, my father contacted the Jedi and had me taken to the Temple on Coruscant.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. What about the governor? Why all the secrecy?” the blond asked, gently tugging on the hood of Obi-Wan’s robe to emphasize his point.

“Three years ago, when the Republic sent a new ambassador, my Master and I were assigned to oversee his safety during the journey. I had known that my parents lived on Dantooine for years and decided that I could try and visit them. But the situation in Manarah was still tense back then and I did not take any precautions…and some people took my visit as an open attempt at re-establishment of the old monarchy…”

The younger man’s voice broke as an avalanche of sorrow and regret flooded the Force around them, efficiently silencing any living signature to the point that nothing but a gloomy murmur was tangible. Vader could feel the change even through the closed bond and it wasn’t due to his high midichlorian count. Sometimes he wondered if he truly was the only child of the Force, because if anybody lived in perfect synchronicity with it, that person was Obi-Wan.  

“One night, when I was out with my Master, they raided the palace and killed every single nobleman in inside, including my family, as a warning for me to never return.”

The ginger’s head sunk onto his propped up knees, hiding his face away from the other man once more, but the Sith could see the roots of long, dark eyelashes starting to soak in un-shed tears. Obi-Wan’s hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white under the pressure.

Vader reached for one of the fists and one by one gently pried the fingers open with his human hand until all of them lay stretched in the palm of his hand. Turning his head only the slightest bit, Obi-Wan questioningly peered at him through teary eyes and Vader felt his heart skip a beat. How long had it been since they have been this close? Not only physically, but as a whole entity. They had, at least from the Sith’s point of view, not done this in decades.

Obi-Wan’s jade eyes widened and his pink lips fell open silently as Vader leaned in closer, intently gazing at the padawan. Tentatively, the Sith pressed against the red-head’s mental shields and once he found them relaxed and open, he couldn’t help the fond smile that fought its way onto his face. Moving closer so that their foreheads nearly touched, he brought Obi-Wan’s hand to his lips and lightly kissed the open palm. It was a familiar gesture his former Master, who generally refused any intimate physical contact, used to show his affection when Anakin was still a little, misbehaving whelp of an apprentice.

The grin on Vader’s face broadened as he watched the ginger’s bewildered expression morph into something akin to a shy smile. Their fingers entwined and the Force shifted pleasantly, their souls brushing lightly against each other.

 Then Obi-Wan’s expression went somber again and his gaze shifted to their joined hands: “Do you ever feel like you are going the wrong way? Like you are meant to be someone else?”

  


* * *

  


_After finally being released from the overly pampering care of a med-droid, Anakin, still a bit sore and beaten up, walked into his apartment at the Jedi Temple. As expected, Obi-Wan was already waiting for him, agitatedly pacing back and forward in front of the room's holo-screen. A small frown graced the bearded lips and Anakin was certain that if his Master’s arm wasn’t stuffed in a hard plaster cast, the man would surely have it defensively folded over his chest._

_“We need to talk.” Obi-Wan said in his usual masterly voice, but this time there was a hint of genuine displeasure._

_Of course, this was exactly what Anakin expected. The talk. Like he hadn’t just gone through Mace’s two-hour long lesson, which had quickly turned into a methodically recited list of all Anakin’s flaws and missteps._

_Mirroring his Master’s cold expression, he closed the door with a wave of his hand and continued onto the kitchen like nothing was going on: “There’s nothing to talk about, Master. The mission’s over.”_

_“Nothing, really? How about you explain to me why you disobeyed again, padawan” huffed Obi-Wan, clearly annoyed at his former student’s dismissal, and briskly followed behind the taller man._

_Turning away from the Jedi Master, Anakin quickly pulled out some caf powder from one of the kitchen cabinets: “I'm not your padawan anymore. You give give me orders.”_

_That was not quite true, he was aware. Despite him having the title of Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan was a Master and a Council member, which meant that he did have _certain,_ degree of control over him, but that was something Anakin didn’t like to admit very often._

_“I know you hate orders, especially from me, but those were the Council’s orders” sighed the ginger, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. It was a nervous habit._

_“And the Council is always right, of course” returned the blond, his eyes narrowing dangerously before switching back to feigned impassiveness: “Plus, nothing happened.”_

_“Nothing happened? You _ABANDONED_ your assigned post at one of the most crucial moments and therefore endangered your entire battalion! Anakin, another Jedi team had to be called in to fix your little escapade! Do you even know what the Council thinks of you? Thinks of us?” Obi-Wan gaped at him with wide eyes, as though he couldn’t believe that Anakin had just said that._

_Of course Obi-Wan would only care about what the Council thought, Anakin mused to himself bitterly._

_“Tell me, Master, what DO they think of us. That I’m dangerous? That I'm not fit to be a Jedi? That you should have written me off and expelled me a long time ago? I think they have been thinking that for a while, so no harm really done!” Anakin spat out through gritted teeth, suddenly much angrier than he thought. He already had so many clashes with the High Council about his questionable behavior, but hearing similar objections from the mouth of his beloved Master sent his blood boiling inside his body._

_Letting out a low growl at the ginger’s defiant face, the blond attempted to push by him and escape this unpleasant situation before it got out of hand like it had so many times following the debacle on Ithor. But Obi-Wan seemed to have a different idea._

_“Anakin!” he warned, firmly clasping younger man’s elbow and forcefully turning him around: “Stop this nonsense!”_

_The two men stood facing each other._

_“Nonsense?!” seethed Anakin through his teeth, with one swing knocking off the hand that was holding his elbow and instead grabbing onto Kenobi’s biceps, digging his prosthetic fingers into the clothed flesh: “Do you even realize that you would have died, if I hadn’t -as you put it- abandoned my assigned post?”_

_The ginger’s hands bolted to clutch Anakin’s wrists in attempt to push them away, but the former padawan would not bulge._

_“Listen to me, Anakin, this is a war! The life of one man doesn’t matter! My life doesn’t matter!” pleaded obi-Wan desperately._

_“It does matter! You- YOU MATTER TO ME!” snarled the blond, using his grip on Kenobi’s tunic to bring the shorter man closer: “I would rather watch the whole galaxy burn than lose you!”_

_The Master stumbled forward, his hands bracing on Anakin’s chest._

_“You have to let go of your fear!”_

_The Force thundered around them but neither paid any attention to it._

_“NO!” yelled Anakin, his eyes flashing yellow for a split second as he roughly pushed the other man into the wall behind him: “I will not let you die like my mother!”_

_Something snapped and the universe went absolutely silent. Obi-Wan’s lips fell soundlessly open at the two very unsettling revelations while his pupil stared at him blankly._

_“Anakin, I-” started Obi-Wan gently, but the words died on his tongue as the blond Knight suddenly slumped in his arms, falling forward onto his chest. Instantaneously Obi-Wan’s arms were around the younger man’s broad shoulder, stabilizing both of them and letting them somewhat controllably slide onto the ground_

_‘Please’ begged Anakin through their bond, temporarily unable to create the words with his vocal cords: ‘I’m tired of this.’_

_The only thing he wanted at the moment was to crawl into Kenobi’s bed and curl up in his arms until all the nightmares had gone away just like he used to do as a padawan._

_‘I know…’ whispered his Master back, allowing Anakin to draw from his calming presence until both of their breathing had evened out. They laid there silently, Obi-Wan’s back resting against the kitchen wall and Anakin’s large frame more-or-less sprawled on top of the older Jedi._

_After a while, Anakin raised his head to look deeply into his Master’s eyes. His own crystalline blue met Obi-Wan's seafoam green and their souls blended to the point that Anakin could no longer distinguish which thoughts and emotions were his and which were not._

_“Maybe once the war is over we could…”_

_Anakin paused, unsure of how to continue his statement._

_What did he want to say? That they could quit the Jedi and run away? That they could live carefree on some Force-forgotten planet far beyond the Outer Rim? He actually had nothing to offer Obi-Wan, no safe plan, no assurance that he will even survive this damned war. And what about Padme? His sweet, trusting Padme would be heartbroken were she to ever find out that her husband spent years dreaming about running off with another man in his arms._

_Hopeless. Anakin knew it was hopeless. Yet, every time his and Kenobi’s souls intertwined and he could hear their hearts beating in perfect harmony and feel the ethereal warmth of their open bond, he couldn’t help but feel a longing for more. Obi-Wan was like a toxic drug, an illicit substance of only the purest quality, the kind that could take you higher than any cloud in the sky and then drop you twice as fast right back to the ground, broken and shaking in withdrawal. The uptight ginger was like a lullaby to the dark, vile dragon that was slowly clawing its way into his mind._

_There was no escaping from him, Anakin knew and that’s why it was so hopeless. He couldn’t live with Obi-Wan, but a life without him was meaningless._

_Not releasing his grip on Obi-Wan’s tunic, he dropped his head back onto the older man’s shoulder, pressing his sweaty forehead into the soft bristles of Obi-Wan’s beard. A strong, saber-calloused hand immediately returned to its previous task of brushing down the unruly, dark blond curls._

_“I love you…” whispered Anakin into the crook of Kenobi’s neck._

_The only response he got was a soft kiss pressed onto the center of his palm._

  


* * *

  


 “Sometimes” answered Vader truthfully.

He often thought about how different their lives might had been, had he made different choices – had he chosen Padme instead of Obi-Wan. The problem was, and always had been, that Obi-Wan truly _belonged_ to the Order and Anakin did not. So when Padme, heavily pregnant with his child, had offered him a stable family home on Naboo, Anakin had been too selfish and too much in love with his former Master to actually leave the Jedi and give up on his right to stand at Obi-Wan’s side, to always be there. In young Anakin’s mind, the bearded, soft-spoken man had been _his_ and even a simple idea of Kenobi taking on another padawan- or, Force forbid, a lover- had sent the blonde tumbling down a slippery slope of angst and raging jealousy. And nothing, not even his beautiful wife and child, could break his fall. 

Looking at the much younger version of his Master’s face, Vader uttered: “But sometimes I think that if I - if _we_ \- haven’t made the decisions we have, we would probably not be here.”

_Together_ went unsaid, but from the firm squeeze Obi-Wan gave his hand, the Sith knew it was understood.

 

 

 


	11. When It Rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit more of an expo on the situation, some romance and foreshadowing :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so two things:  
> 1\. it turns out that to write a story, you need more than just a vague idea of how it should start and how it should end. you also need a middle...and such excessive planning requires time and forethought...what a drag, hmm? :D on a brighter note, I now have the story mostly planned out :)  
> 2\. I just noticed that the title of the story is wrong :O It's supposed to be Show Me, Tell Me (not the other way around)...If you are wondering it comes from the song called Shine by the Collective Soul and it's a really great song, so you should definitely check it out ;) [PSST... I fixed the title of the fic for you :) -Arvis]  
> So do let me know whatcha guys think (I'm sappy, but not very good at writing romance, so any comments help) and I solemnly swear I will do my best to update more often!  
> Any idea who are the guys at the begging of the chapter? (just wondering if I'm being too vague or too descriptive for you to figure it out)

_Approximately 1 Parsec Galactic Southwest of the Dantooine System:_

A lone soldier, dressed in full battle-armor emblazoned with a familiar hexagonal logo on its breastplate, clicked on the starship’s holo-com, quickly punching in a 9-digit sequence of Balc symbols. Shortly, the blue screen of a holo-projector flickered to life, creating a slightly distorted image of a partially cloaked, somewhat aged face.

“Everything is proceeding as expected, my Lord” said the soldier leisurely, feminine voice heavily obscured by the helmet, but not weak: “Both Jedi have taken the bait.”

Gesturing to the symbol on her breastplate, she snorted menacingly: “Drawing that stupid Serennoan emblem on all the ships was a brilliant idea. It’s only a matter of time before the padawan breaks and will try to take action.”

The thin, sickly pale lips of the figure on the holo-screen quirked up the smallest fraction: “Good. He must be weak, if the plan is to work.”

“What is next, my Lord?” asked the female, pleased with her master’s approval.

“Now we wait; we divide and conquer” the deep, dry raspiness of his voice was only exaggerated by the low quality of the holo-com: “All humans are bound to those they love, and the bond between a Master and a Padawan is like carbonite enforced steel -- strong, but brittle. Kill one and the other _will_ fall.”

The soldier nodded curtly, signaling that she understood the task given to her, when the cloaked figure spoke again, his tone measured and serious: “But be warned, Kenobi is intelligent and far more skilled in communing with the Force than any other padawan of his age.”

“That won’t be a problem, my Lord” she smirked, patting her blaster holder to emphasize the point.

“Go now. Our contact will be waiting for you in the palace.”

"Very well, my Master."

 

* * *

 

_Dantooine:_

The emergency meeting with all seventeen, highly opinionated, governors who seemingly couldn’t agree on even the simplest of issues, had been dragging on for days past the battle when Vader finally decided he had had enough of their meaningless political prattle and left the grand hall. For his service during the battle, and probably partially also for his affiliation with the 'Prince’, he had been assigned a temporary private guestroom in City Hall by the governor himself. And so, as soon as the large door of the hall had closed behind him, he’d made a beeline towards it.

The promise of solitude, no matter how provisional, had been too tempting to ignore.

Entering the small guestroom and carefully locking the door behind him, Vader immediately went to sit on the floor by a window, where the moonlight was at its strongest, and assumed an old-style meditation pose.

As Anakin Skywalker, the blonde had never meditated properly, often preferring to partake in something he’d lovingly dubbed as ‘active meditation’, which mainly consisted of practicing the most strenuous lightsaber forms until he’d either pass out of exhaustion or be called off for a mission. But as Darth Vader, with his skin and muscles burned down to the bone and lungs that had long refused to move without the help of a rebreather, he had learned to appreciate the skillfully refined mental hiatus that the more traditional technique offered. Unlike his former Master, who could probably sustain himself on the Force alone, the blonde Sith was never able to meditate the physical pain of his damaged body away. So he had at least tried to forget.

Now everything was different- his body was yet again nimble and strong, and his mind peaceful. The meditation should have been easier, yet, the Force felt somewhat restless that night. Agitatedly shifting from side to side and twirling around, it screamed at Vader’s mind, like something beyond his knowledge and control was happening in the background.

Cautiously threading through his own mind, the Sith followed the string of disturbances to its boiling epicenter, which seemed to pivot itself around a certain ginger-haired padawan ever since the various suspicions about the blitz strike on Manarah came to light. Through their bond, he could see Obi-Wan’s presence tainted in shades of crimson and violet, crawling and creeping at the edge of Vader’s consciousness like a feral nexu out on the prowl for prey, ready to pounce and kill. Forcing his spirit to remain calm and concentrated, Vader reached out through the emptiness of the Force towards his soulmate, sensing him strangely close, but just before their expected joining, the burning red presence swirled out of his grasp and the force went silent.

Something _was_ going on, frowned the blonde.

Taking a calming breath, he shifted his position by folding his left leg over the right and attempted to return to his meditation, but before he was able to do so, an urgent knocking against the door pulled him abruptly back to reality.

When Vader opened the door, he found a very distressed-looking Obi-Wan rapidly pacing back and forward across the narrow hallway, his usually tidy robes disheveled and the decorated padawan braid firmly pinched between his index finger and thumb. A displeased frown decorated the ginger’s lips as he kept intently glaring at the intricate, flowery pattern of the flooring underneath his moving feet. Outside the soft clicking of his Jedi boots against marble tiles, the padawan did not make a sound, but Vader could see his mouth open and close every so as if he was about to let out an agitated huff.

Finally noticing the blond man at the door, Obi-Wan immediately stopped his pacing, his eyes widening in shock.

“I-uh…Could..um…” he floundered, his face red in embarrassment from getting caught doing something so very un-Jedi like, and Vader had to force down an amused snicker that was making its way to the surface of his previously neutral façade.  

“Can I come in?” the short Jedi whispered once he re-gained his wits, hastily schooling his features into a look of passivity and squaring his shoulders.

Stepping aside to let the shorter man pass, Vader watched as Obi-Wan dashed into the room and immediately began to pace again, striding back and forward around the confined space of the room and purposefully avoiding the Sith’s gaze. The Force twisted uneasily and it became clear that the young man had something important to say.

“Obi-Wan” said Vader a little forcefully, suddenly worried about possibly horrific news that the Jedi was bearing, and stuck his mechanical arm out to prevent the other from further movement. Facing each other, their eyes met and there was an unfamiliar mixture of emotions flashing through the emerald eyes.

“What is wro-” the Sith was about to ask, but a pair of soft, warm lips crushing against his stopped him mid-sentence. It was only a light touch, barely creating any friction as they stood frozen in time, Obi-Wan’s smaller frame pressed against Vader’s chest, fingers tangled in short curls at the nape of his neck, gently keeping his head in place. The Force around their bond roared in excitement like a wild beast that was set free, making Vader’s head spin dizzily and immobilizing his limbs. It took only a second or two, before the young Jedi hesitantly started to pull away, his hand slipping from the unruly hair onto Vader’s shoulder, eyes shyly cast down, and cheeks flushed with the color of Andoan wine. The blond Sith nearly whined at the loss of Kenobi’s burning lips.

Finally, re-gaining control over his wayward body, he used the thumb of his human hand to gently brush a spot on Obi-Wan’s chin which, in less than a decade, would be fully covered in soft red bristles, tilting the younger male’s head upwards. Two wide, insecure pools of sea-foam green, framed by long, dark eyelashes, met his gaze head-on. Letting his eyes travel over the somewhat familiar features, Vader ran his cold mechanical fingers along the length of Obi-Wan’s padawan braid. It was short, barely past his shoulder, with only three colorful beads, making the Sith realize one thing: Obi-Wan was so very young. Probably no older than eighteen years of age, he realized the blond with a frown. And he? He had lived two lives already, through the Republic, the war, and the Empire.

Is this how his former Master felt all those years ago? Is this why he had rejected him time and time again? Because he thought Anakin had been too young, too reckless?

There was a flutter in the Force, a soft tug on their bond, swaying Vader’s consciousness back into the present, open and inviting. Dropping the braided hair in favor of securing his arm around the younger man’s hips before he could pull too far away. The ginger watched him expectantly, a fine line of worry between two dark eyebrows, that the Sith came to associate exclusively with his Master, appeared on Kenobi’s face. Their bond glowed with warmth and affection with same intensity as it had so many times before Anakin fell to the Dark Side. 

This _was_ still Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vader realized, the same man that had raised him, the same man he’d spend decades upon decades chasing after across countless planets, the one he’d belonged to.

He would not let him get away this time, decided Vader as he recaptured Obi-Wan’s lips in a kiss with one swift movement, lazily dragging his tongue over the bottom one. The red head let out a breathy moan, tilting his head a little bit to the side to allow Anakin better access. Breaking their connection and stumbling, Vader carefully pushed the padawan backwards, trapping his smaller form between himself and a wall, and leaning in.

“Mah kotka… (My Master)” groaned the blonde Sith against Obi-Wan’s lips, a phrase he hadn’t used in decades, pressing their foreheads together while trailing his fingers dangerously close to the hem of the other’s robes.  

“Master Jinn is sending me back to Coruscant, back to the Temple” muttered suddenly Obi-Wan.

Vader paused his movements, eyes flickering to the padawan: “When?”

Sudden feel of dread filled their bond.

“Tomorrow morning” sighed Obi-Wan.

“What?” Vader nearly growled, instinctively tightening his grip on Kenobi’s hips: “The negotiations are not even over!”

An instant surge of hatred towards Qui-Gon Jinn welled up in Vader’s chest. How dare he take Obi-Wan away?

The ginger sighed again, extracting himself from the blond’s grasp: “I know, but he's worried that I’m getting too involved. He thinks this whole ordeal is just some political scheme created by the local councilors to get rid of me”

Vader’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. To send a padawan away just because a mission got dangerous was not standard procedure, not even for the most soft-hearted Masters, so there must have been something else in play that Obi-Wan, or Qui-Gon, was not saying.

Either way, Vader needed more information before he could form a plan of action: “Councilors? Namely?”

Obi-Wan folded his arms over his chest defensively, an annoyed frown tugging at the corners of his mouth: “Governor Zhraa-En…”

“He’s a politician and they are not to be trusted” parroted Vader, a phrase that his former Master never failed to mention when any sort of legislator was in question.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes: “You sound just like Master Jinn”

“There’s always the possibility that he’s right” noted the Sith with a serious expression, completely ignoring Obi-Wan's snappy remark: “the Governor has the power and the motive”

Shaking his head indignantly as if the mere thought offended him, Obi-Wan took a few quick strides towards the window where Vader had previously meditated, turning away from his companion to stare at the night sky. There was a short, tense pause and the Sith was sure that the padawan will throw a tantrum over his Master’s unjust decision, but when Obi-Wan spun back around, his face was schooled into an appearance of well-practiced impassiveness.

“Do you know who Count Dooku is?” the youth asked.

Of course Vader knew who Dooku is, considering that the Sith Lord was the cause for his droid-like saber arm, but decided to play along for the time being: “Yes, his skills in the classical form are known throughout the galaxy even to non-sensitives. He is on the Jedi Council, isn’t he?”

“Was.” sighed Obi-Wan, “He left the Order shortly after I became Master Jinn’s padawan. Ideologically, he rarely got along with the other Council members, but he was always a star Jedi, a legend to all the padawans, if you will. On the night of his departure, he came to see my Master. I don’t remember much of it, but they argued and Master Dooku more-or-less ordered Master Qui-Gon and myself to leave with him. Naturally, my Master refused and…I don’t know if it was just in a heat of the moment, but Dooku threatened him with my life, saying that if we stay with the Jedi, I will be in danger.”

The ginger finished in a bitter tone, making Vader reconsider his next words.

“You think Dooku is behind the assassination on the Republic’s ambassador as well?” he asked cautiously, running his mech-arm through his tangled blond curls.

“I don’t know…” shrugged his shoulders Obi-Wan: “but this would have been the perfect opportunity. If something happens to me, Qui-Gon will be more likely to leave the Jedi and join Dooku. Plus, due to the... 'current situation,' no one would ever suspect his involvement.”

“Of course, because everyone would blame Governor Zhraa-En.” Vader finished the thought, suddenly understanding the Jedi’s concern. From what he remembered from his own time, Dooku was a very loyal, idealistic leader, who did not let go of old grievances any easier than he himself did, so it was quite possible that he had staged the whole political upheaval on Dantooine as retaliation against his wayward padawan. Perhaps, even, against the whole of the Jedi. 

“Exactly.” agreed Kenobi, the tone of his voice colder than Hothian ice, gaze falling onto the floor below his feet.

There was something omniscient when he spoke next: “What if this is Dooku’s revenge? I worry that my Master might be in far greater danger than I…”

Vader shifted uncomfortably, as the familiar weight of nameless darkness settled between them. He knew that feeling all too well.

Sudden urge to say, to do, anything to protect his former Master from any harm overwhelmed his senses: “Kouuanu bo (short one), I-”

“If my suspicions are true, this  _must_ be stopped” whispered Obi-Wan urgently, cutting off whatever was Vader about to say.

A sudden knock on the front door made both men look up, but before the Sith was able to get the door handle, the ginger stopped him.

“Here. I'd like you to keep this” said Obi-Wan, quickly unclasping one of his saber hilts from his utility belt and handing it to Vader. Then he smirked, a glint of mischief flashing through his teal-colored eyes. “Just in case”

Startled by the unusual gift and by the sudden shift in the mood, the Sith nodded, attaching the saber hilt to his own belt, and opened the door. In the hallway stood six armed men, all dressed in standard city guard armor similar to Vader’s own, blasters attached to their hips. One of them, an extremely tall, humanoid alien with feminine features and grayish, bony skin, bowed her head slightly in greeting.

“Yes?” asked Vader, carefully measuring the imposing guard.

“Our apologies, sir” she spoke with a Dathomirian accent, looking over Vader’s shoulder at Obi-Wan: “Master Kenobi, the Governor is ready to see you in his office.”

“Very well,” the ginger nodded and pushed past the blond Sith to the center of the assembled guards, taking a one last look back before signaling for the group to move.

As all seven forms slowly faded into the dim hallway, Vader had a strange sense of foreboding nudging at the back of his mind.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he said to no one in particular.


End file.
